Wednesday, 8 August 2012

WHEN I DIE THEY'RE TOTALLY GOING TO EAT MY FACE

"She's gone? Cool. Let's go barf on the table."

I may not have told you this yet this week, but I am a dog person. A dog person who owns zero dogs and two cats. This confounds me on a daily basis, because if there is one thing I can't abide it's a sneaky cat. And there is no other kind of cat.

My two little guys are cute as hell, but they have no respect for me whatsoever. They maybe fear me a little, especially since that time I flung their kitty dish across the room while simultaneously shrieking their names after one of them barfed on the counter. 
That scared them real good. But fear is not the same thing as respect.

These two are very good at pretending to like me, but it's just a cover for their disdain. If they respected me, they would not continually ignore my command to stay OFF THE TABLE. I know they do this because every night before I go to bed, I polish my kitchen table to a glossy sheen, and in the morning it is covered with paw prints. Then I clean it again while they look on, silently and sarcastically communing with each via telepathic messages. Sensing this, I whip around to glower at them and they're all like: "What? What? Nobody said 'Stupid pet owner.' " 

I realize that some people have no problem with their cats crawling all over their table and countertops (see Get off the table, gaddamit!), besmirching them with their litter-infused paws. 
I am aware that some people believe their cats can be trained to stay off their table and countertops once and for all.
These people are what I like to call crazy. 
Because here is what really goes on when you aren't home and your cat is:

YOU: OK, I'm going to work now.
CAT: *blinks*
YOU: I love you, kitty!
CAT: *blinks*
YOU: Now remember, stay OFF THE TABLE! Byeee!
CAT: Fuck you. As soon as you're gone, I'm on the table. All day I'm on the table. It's great.

Editor's note: I can't help but comment that one never hears stories about dogs going on the table.
Cats' note: Fuck you. She doesn't own dogs, she owns us. And we're on the table.