I never ask for a lot. I’m a cat, I mean. Seriously. All I ask for is peace and quiet. And someone to freakin’ clean out my litter box. Damn. Is it really that hard to comprehend? I poop, you clean it up. I pee, you clean it up. I don’t like how it looks or smells, you clean it up.
The one who believes she’s in charge just goes about her business as if she owns the place. No, this is my house, and I make the rules. Somehow she needs to get that through her head.
Aha, but I could come up with a plan. Oh yes, I’m definitely well-crafted in the evil plans area. Cats are famous for their vengeful plots against their people.
But how to propose to do it…hmm…
I quickly race my little body to my cat box, which is near all the shoes-another reason to despise the house I live in. By the smelly human shoes? Really?
My cat box is full of litter and feces. It’s disgusting. Turning up my nose in disgust, I come up with a clever idea to get revenge on the people in this house, mainly the woman, since she usually takes care of me. Using all my weight, I place my front paws on the box and tip it over, the contents spewing all over the floor. I wonder if the humans can hear it. Oh well. I take my paws and move the clumps around, by the shoes, under the welcome mat, and right in front of the walkway. I purr and laugh to myself while doing it. If this is what I do when they don’t clean out my litter box, imagine what I’m capable of in other situations.
Purr. Revenge is sweet.