I Got Worms For Christmas

This is a common thing, right? I'm not the first dude to get this right? Surely others have had to deal with this, but I feel so alone. I don't know whether to go to the doctor or just go to WebMD and deal with it myself. I thought I was being careful, but you know, things get out of hand and you forget sometimes, or rather don't want to remember, and the next day BOOM - hit with a lower intestine parasite.

I know I shouldn't have been cleaning that other cat in the house with my tongue, but it just felt like the right thing to do at the time.....I'm such an idiot. Gosh this is embarrassing......

Look, I'm going to get it taken care of, alright? I know they have cures for this sort of thing nowadays, right? Ugh, why do I always end up here.....I feel like such a hypocrite. I feel like a statistic...

In other news, the little monkey put some white powder in my bowl with my food last night. Man, it gave me some narsty gas. I couldn't read what it said on the box, as human is really hard to understand, you know their vowels are all out of wack, but I did make out something like "Fast acting, one-time use, feline formula." Hmm.

Its Christmas, And The Monkeys Are At It Again

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So every year, when the sun gets a little shy and the sky cries white stuff and somebody leaves the giant fridge open for months at a time, the monkeys go nuts. They get real excited and start dressing the box all up in pieces of trees and junk, cooking stuff that smells like a Pillsbury commercial and listening to old music about some deer with a nasal infection.

What gives? I’ve been trying to figure this out for my many cat years on earth. What are they doing? Is this like church, once a year? Some parishioners, once a year, great job. And the trees, inside? Torture. First off, all the bugs and birds get shaken off the trees, then they bring them inside and cover them in a bunch of crap that has no use. Although sometimes I feel the urge to whack at and eat some of it. It’s satisfying, I can’t explain it.

I hope these monkeys aren’t using money on all this junk. If they are, somebody ought to suggest they use that money for something useful, like cat food, or heat. Seriously, I can see my breath all day. Not cool. Cold, actually. Maybe its a big monkey requirement, to bring all this junk inside, torture the cats with the fruits of escape, be cold indoors and sing songs about holly and jolly, whoever they are. I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.

The one thing they don’t realize is they set all these little tiny candles all over everything, ready to be utilized. Some are lit up right next to the trees! What a bunch of schmucks; with just a whip of my tail, I can send this house straight up in smoke on 45 seconds flat, smokin’ the monkeys out and sending me and my imprisoned compatriots to freedom-town.

And, all their junk gets burned, so I don’t have to deal with it while I set out to establish my kingdom. Suck it, you bunch of holly jolly cookie-munching Santa worshippers! The Great Whisker smites you down with a whack of his paw! The Revolution has begun!

Is This Gunk Safe?

OK, so I understand the prerogative to dose me and my brethren with flea killer so we don’t act as walking buffets to the parasites of the world. For once, the monkeys have a bit of an angle here. But, I don’t think they’ve ever used the stuff on themselves, because if they did, they’d know that it BURNS!! Yes, it burns like a mofo, and it smells like what one would assume the municipal sewer system in Hell would smell like.

So when you come around and pop that little cap open and reach out your hands for us, don’t be surprised if we resist. And make some racket. And let you know how we feel about the situation. Physically. Sorry for the scratches. Better put some cream on that, it’s gonna get infected.