“Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it.” Image Source
2010 was a weird year for me. I had just adopted a kitten and he looked a lot like a certain führer. I was warned over and over again by all my friends, but in a classic typical me move, my cartoonish pride made me deaf to all those fucking idiots, and I went ahead and named my cat Adolf Hitler, Hitler for short. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have.
“Appreciate me better.”
I cannot think of a better way to celebrate National Cat Appreciation Month than to share the reasons why my cat is better than the current president of the United States, Donald Trump.
Before I proceed, my cat’s name is Puppy. She is almost three years old. Like her name implies, she can sit on command, and she fetches and returns plastic rings from milk gallons. Beyond that she is useless.
That darn human-eyed cat gives me the willies.
He had awoken from the strangest dream, more disturbing than odd, more horrifying than weird. In fact, so real, he jumped in the air. This was not a dream.
Six hours ago, before this power catnap, Dexter remembered a previous life of being a human being. Now, he was a tabby cat thanks to some sort of mystical reincarnation hoodoo voodoo jive. He was certain that after some much needed sleep; he would forget his previous life. This was far from the case.
This cat has probably killed someone you know. Image Source
She had a wild premonition that this day would come, but not this soon. It is inevitable that whenever the going gets good; life has a way of reminding you, not so fast. For the first time, since the Great Recession, she had a healthy relationship with freedom. She finally had a place of her own. No more roommates, no more abusive drunk boyfriend, excluding two nights ago, and in general, no more nonsense.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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