Cat Talk

Today’s Risky guest

Janet is so incredibly lazy that she asked me to recycle a post I wrote a year or so ago. She is also refusing to feed me even though she’s up at 5 am and doesn’t seem to have anything else to do. She’s been very picky recently about hair balls, even though a cat’s gotta do what a cat’s gotta do, and if sometimes it happens on the bed, well, you can’t argue with nature. She also bought me a cat tower recently. I’ve no idea what she expects me to do with it.

So, the Regency. Not a good time for cats. No reproductive rights, persecuted for our beautiful coats and tuneful intestines. Portrayed, as you can see, as grotesque gluttons or sneaky criminals:

I’m HELPING the fish. What do you think I’m doing?
Well fed French cat, probably fattened up to make some sort of pate.
Well fed French cat, probably fattened up to make some sort of pate.
Guess what I just did down here.

Excuse me, I must go eat.

Where was I? Oh yes, the Regency. A time of persecution and–

OMG what is that on the ceiling?

Never mind. Hey, I bet you can’t get your leg up by your ear and do this.

Dream on, dog.

Any other cats out there who wish to comment?

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