Fatty enjoys laying in the sun, bathing herself, eating chocolate pudding, glaring at inanimate objects and howling in the middle of the night.
|I like pudding.|
Though I call her Fatty here, at home, we call her Kitty. Her real name is Fiona. She likes to pee on carpet, and our whole main level is carpeted, so Fatty lives in the our new finished basement. Don't
On Friday, I got off early and decided to sit out in the backyard to enjoy a beer or two by myself before ADD Daddy got home with The Quiet Contemplator and The Cool Cucumber. I decided to take Fatty along for the ride. She was not pleased. If there is anything that Fatty is 1,000,000% not, it is an outdoor cat. The experience went a bit like this (keep in mind that Fatty's voice is that of a bitchy French gay man):
We go outside.
I sit on the couch with Fatty.
Fatty immediately jumps off and heads for the closed door to the inside.
Fatty begins howling.
I begin laughing.
Fatty howls louder and look desperate.
Fatty's inner dialogue: Ohmygod. WhyamIoutside? Whatisthatscarynoise (lawnmower)? Whatisthatotherscarynoise (air conditioner)? Ohmygod. WhyamIoutside?
Me: What's wrong, Fatty?
Fatty's inner dialogue: (Fatty now looks more pissed than scared) OH MY GOD! I think there is a leaf in my butt.
Me: Fatty, what's wrong?
Fatty's inner dialogue: What's wrong? What's wrong? I am a tortoise shell calico, bitch. My fur is pristine. What were you thinking dragging me out into the wilderness?
|Oh, hell-to-the-no, bitch.|
Me: Fatty, do you want to go inside?
Fatty's inner dialogue:
|Bitch, I will cut you. Open the door. Now.|