There’s something funny about that cat. It’s as if it knows exactly what I’m thinking. Always around for food and yet vanishes into the ether when it needs bathing, worming or grooming.
Talking about food, I really ought to feed it. It’s giving me that half-starved look again. Anthony Hopkins has nothing on this kitty.
I’m sure I fed it before, but I can’t have: the bowl’s empty.
Look at this stuff. How come the cat food costs five times more than what my groceries do? Why do we pay out so much for ‘scientific formula’ when the bloody thing’s more than happy to eat bugs?
I suppose that’s because it’s part of a balanced diet. Can’t be that balanced though, look at the size of it. That’s less ‘winter plumage’ and more seasonably plump. Balanced diet, my arse. Maybe I ought to take it to Doctor Shipiro, let him check it out.
I’m sure there’s no need though. It looks big but it seems to be acting alright. Maybe it’s just a big breed? Might be worth a trip to the vet though, just to be sure.
Saying that, a trip to the vets will set me back a pretty penny. How do they justify being so expensive? Costs me twenty just to get an appointment only for them to give me some cock-and-bull about worms. It’s as big as a car, how can it have worms? Thinking about it though, when was the last time I gave it a worming tablet?
Might have been last week. Better not risk it. I don’t want an earful about poisoning the cat again, like that time I gave it cow’s milk.
‘You can’t give a cat cow’s milk,’ the wife’d said with a look that’d curdle blood. ‘Cats are lactose-intolerant.’ Bloody people-intolerant if you ask me. Little buggers seem to hate everything. This one in particular. It just spends all day staring at me from under the desk, plotting my demise. I’m sure that one day I’ll look down and find it knotting my laces together. It’s already tried to push me down the stairs more than once.
To be fair I was trying to give it a bath at the time and I know they’re not exactly known for their love of the aquatic: fish excluded.
Talking about food, I really ought to feed it. I’m sure I’ve just fed it though. It’s even got food on its face. There’s gravy on the end of its…whiskers. Hmmm, little buggers just cleaned it off. I’m sure it was there before.
Erm…no food. Bowl empty.
But the bowl is empty and it can’t possibly have eaten a full bowl that fast…can it? Probably just thought I’d fed it ’cause I got the food out. Really, I’d forget my own head…