| I'm settling down for bed and that psychotic furball comes running up to me meowing. "What are you on about, kitty?" I ask her concernedly. Suddenly, my nostrils, sinuses, bronchial tubes and lungs are assaulted by a noxious odour that would cause a sopping Vogon armpit to pale in comparison. I gag and go running to the litter box and cover the offending coiler all the while hollering "You bloody cat why can't you cover these damned things?!"
Of course, all this time my cat is walking around meowing plaintively, as if to say "Some other cat went and crapped in my litter box, go clean that s*** up!"
Back to bed, and the cat is staying out of the bedroom tonight. Stinky little weeble. |
