Why You Should Never Believe Anything A Human Tells You

The human showed me a photograph today. She shoved it in my face after she'd blown her stack, as she put it, ONE FREAKIN' TIME TOO MANY! (I'm not sure why she got so mad, since I didn't intentionally break one of her precious figurines--it was a dog, for pete's sake--nor did I intentionally drag a very small piece of poopy into the family room. I certainly didn't know it had stuck to my rear end, for god's sake, and when she stepped on it, she WAS wearing flip-flops. Jeez.)

So she was yelling and screaming as she stomped into her office but after she'd been there awhile I heard her chuckling and I figured she'd calmed down and got over it. A bit later, she comes out and says, "See this? I took it yesterday in Pearl River. And don't think they wouldn't take you because you're old and stringy. Mr. McCroc said marinating old cats in Worcestershire sauce softens them right up."

OH MY GOD!! I TOTALLY FREAKED OUT! I could not BELIEVE this woman who says she loves "her babies" would even consider turning one of us into a catburger! Click on the photo to read the horrendous menu.

Then just when I thought I might actually have to start being nice to everyone in order to avoid being turned into a menu item, Boo walks up and says, "By the way Poonie, that sign? Before she doctored it up on the computer, it was a sign for a yard sale. Ha ha."

My usual "Death To Humans" really just doesn't begin to express how I feel right now . . .

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