I’ve always been fascinated by a cat’s ability to get itself into the most improbable of places. I’ve found my cats inside kitchen cabinets, recliners, fireplaces, dresser drawers, WALLS….the list goes on. Obviously cats do stuff like this to be douchebags. It’s like they’re saying “Yeah that’s great that you feed me and scoop my shit out of a box, but I’d really like to avoid you at all costs by squeezing myself into this dark hiding place where you’ll never find me. And when you do find me, it’s going to be a real pain in the ass to get me out.”
I recently moved into a house that has a sunroom lined with built in bookshelves; there’s also a shelf near the ceiling that goes around the perimeter of the room. One day I’m going to put a model train up there; that shit is going to be badass:
Shortly after moving in, I noticed when I would wake up in the morning that several of my classy and tasteful decorative art pieces (pictured above) were somehow ending up on the floor every night. My friend, being a man and therefore an idiot, immediately leapt to the conclusion that this must be the result of paranormal activity and that my house was obviously haunted. However, being wise to the dickish ways of cats, I suspected that this seemingly “paranormal” activity was actually the work of something far more sinister, furrier, and fatter. It wasn’t until recently that one of us was proven to be right while the other was just proven to be stupid.
My suspicions as to what was fucking up my decorative shit every night were confirmed when I was passing through the living room and happened to glance up and see this bullshit right here:
I immediately marched into the room and did what any sane person would do and asked the cat (Ernest Hemingway is his name….god, such a dick) just exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing. I was met with a casual stare, followed by a yawn, followed by this little game where he tried to reach down and slap me in the face:
It was at this point that I realized that not only had this dick found a way to get up there, but I also had no way to get him down or to prevent him from getting up there again. So I have since had to remove all of my breakable shit from the shelf to accomodate his fat ass because he keeps finding a way up and down to that fucking shelf. It’s been weeks and I still don’t know how he gets up there; like all other cats, he does that when I’m not around so he can keep his secrets and thus keep me from finding any way to thwart his douchebag activities. All I know is that he’s going to keep doing it, just like his Siamese sister will keep pulling all of the clothes out of the dresser so she can sleep in the drawer and just like his brother will cram his fat ass into my kitchen cabinets….and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
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“I laughed, I cried, I put a shotgun in my mouth…” the Real Ernest Hemingway.