She's Not Getting It

This is a guest post.  I know, big deal, hey? Me having my very own guest blogger; who could have imagined.  Let me introduce her: I've known her for nine years now.  We don't have a great deal in common aside from our shared bitchy streak. Other than that, she loves the outdoors more than I do and although I say I'm unconcerned as to what others think, she really doesn't give a fuck.  Oh and she's childless and single.  And she pees in our basement and poops in the flower bed.  Confused? It's Callie.  My beautiful Calico Cat and she asked for the opportunity to respond to some of the things I have said as of late.

Ugh.  I don't really care much for writing but as my owner feels it's apropos to share every move I make or don't, it's only fair I should be given the opportunity to respond.  You people have no idea what I have put up with in the nine years since I was unlucky enough to have been brought home here.

Well first things first, I've had to move two times since she got me.  How's that for stability?  I prefer to sleep 21 hours or so of the day and moving really interferes with that and travelling, in a car, is about as much fun as being de-clawed.  Which I haven't been.  I'll give her that much. She did have me spayed but that's okay because I haven't the time for kids of my own given the circus that goes on around here.

When I first came home to live with this family it was doable.  You see there was only her (owner), her two small ones and Melody.  Melody is actually older than me but I am clearly superior to her fat-assed self.  'She' goes around saying Melody is 'voluptuous' and calling her Francesca the plus-sized model.  In reality she's a fat slob.  I'm sick of it.

Anyway we were okay. Then before you knew it?  This big bear of a man came to live with us. I'm pretty sure I didn't okay that and had I known what was to come there was no way I would've allowed this to continue.  Because next? Next we moved.  I have to admit the first move wasn't all that bad. It was a short trip in the car and I was allowed to go outside on a fucking leash but outside all the same.  At the old place I wasn't.  So here I am, just enjoying the outdoors and more space.

Then they had a baby.  I'm not sure who of you are familiar with babies and what that means but it's never good for a cat.  And you should've seen these idiots with it. It was if we barely existed anymore and when he got mobile he was constantly pulling at me and bothering me.  Were I to defend myself I was punished.  It's fucking ridiculous.

As if that wasn't enough they next brought home the lowest form of life there is.  A dog.  A big stupid drooling peeing in the house stinking dog.  Luckily he quickly realized that myself and Fat Ass were the superior beings and he's been tolerable.  Barely.

This is where it gets good.  They thought they could bring another cat into the mix. BAH HA HA HA HA.  They thought wrong.  It took me a few months but I managed to get that bitch out of the house. 

For awhile things continued in a bearable fashion but because these asinine humans I live with are never content, we moved.  Again.  And this was not a short ride.  On the up side we have more room and I get to go outside. Not on a leash.  I hunt. And I hunt good.  So really, I was okay with this.

Eight months later?  Another cat.  For the Love of God and catnip what the hell is wrong with these people?  So I set to work again and before I knew it they found that asshole somewhere new to live too.  You think they'd learn. If only I knew then what I know now.  They are incapable of learning.

Another baby.  Fuck.  Whatever.

Recently though they made a dire move in the wrong direction.  There is now a little rat of a dog running around this house eating everything and peeing even more than the big one did.  He is an idiot.  That doesn't even begin to encompass it.  The fool. He's a male, or so they say, and yet they have the audacity to let him sleep in my old cat bed. It's pink.  No, I hadn't used it for some time but it was mine. This tool, that they call 'Chuy' does not listen.  Time and time again he tries to eat my food.  Fat Ass doesn't do anything but I won't stand for it. 

Yet on occasion the dumb ass prances around in front of me and growls and barks and seems like he wants to 'engage'. I'm not interested. When will he figure this out?  Judging by how things have gone so far, I'm less than hopeful.

The issue at hand is even though I recently made myself clear as to my thoughts on this new addition, he's still here.  The big man just put my 'gift' into the garbage and they carried on as if it never happened.

So this morning, I left this:

The woman acted all horrified and slightly frightened (she's so pathetic) and called yet again on the big man to get rid of it.  The dog is still here.  I shall have to amp up my efforts.