Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Time to arrange an audition with Maurice Starr

If you heard the muffled screaming coming from my house this afternoon, don't worry yourself, I was only bathing Chumlee, one of my retarded cats.

I haven't had two of my three cats for very long.  As you readers and other hangers on may recall, my neighbor's two kittens came over the fence to my house after being left outdoors at home for several months alone.  They have joined my dumb gay cat Booger in terrorizing all of us.

Like every time I walk into the kitchen they think I should cram more food down their gullets.

Or like every time I attempt to sew they lay down smack in the middle of my project.

Or like every time I sit on my toilet they have to observe and critique, or plain stick their heads where they don't belong.

I only terrorized back. 

Chumlee has probably never had a bath before.  He protested most vigorously.  And this cat never meows.  Never.  He makes sweet little trills when he has something to say but otherwise he pads about silent and sort of brainless.  Throw him in a tub full of warm water and he sounds like a New Kids on the Block concert in 1989.

He brooded and licked himself while I cleaned the hair out of the tub with a spatula.

In the morning I'll discover a big pile of poop in my left house slipper.

On a related note, my 17 year old son went to a school function this evening absolutely drenched in Axe.  Despite any encouragement from us to utilize hygiene for the sake of human decency for the last four years, it looks like something or someone may have caught his attention enough to ensure he smells....pleasant.

I'll have him clean out his own tub with a spatula tomorrow.

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