A Day in the Life of Big Kitty
It’s 6:15 AM and it’s been three hours and fifteen minutes since I started breathing heavily into Andy, AKA the tall man’s ear while periodically nudging him with my paw, and he still hasn’t woken up yet. I don’t know maybe he’s tired from Little Kitty running across his chest multiple times throughout the night as she did her wind sprints across the room, but that’s no excuse I’m starving and I’m soooo bored. WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP! I’d try the skinny lady, but homegirl sleeps harder than a drunken college kid after a two-day bender.
7:15 AM and the tall man finally got off his butt and fed me, but not before showering, feeding himself, feeding and petting on the dog, and watching thirty minutes of his boring news stuff while he wrote another one of his useless blogs. I guess I see where ol’ Big Kitty falls on the totem pole, can we still say totem pole or is that politically incorrect now? I don’t know, it’s hard to keep up when your only friends are a schizo cat who spends half of the day trying to kill a single bug and a giant Lab that acts like a kid on his first trip to Disney Land every time you grab his leash to walk him around the same 4 blocks in Grapevine.
12 PM and the skinny lady’s back for lunch and for some reason she’s going through my litter box and collecting my poop in zip lock bags again, not sure what kind of sick experiment she’s working on but she’s been at it for years. You know what I was just thinking, what if scientists found out that somehow the cure for some awful deadly disease was in cat poop? Would people eat it so they could live or would they be so grossed out that they’d be like, nah I’ll just go ahead and die? I know that gargantuan Lab would eat it, he already does and I’m fairly certain it’s not curing anything.
It’s a little after 9:30pm, I’m sorry I haven’t checked in for a while but after dinner I passed out on top of the clean clothes. The ghost came back again so I cried non-stop for twenty minutes to try and warn the tall guy but he just got angry and put me in the backyard. I started chowing down on some grass and then vomited in protest but he hasn’t seemed to notice. You try and do a guy a favor and let him know there’s a creepy ghost lurking around and all he does is kick you out of his climate controlled human kennel. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten into that second bottle of wine he’d be a little more perceptive. Anyway, I’d better call it a night, the sooner I fall asleep the sooner it’ll be time to eat again.