Thursday, April 22, 2010

Sorry about that. I spent several days in a haze of green. Doctor Sweetpants was of no help. (That's my cat, by the way.) Seriously, every time I hear one of those feel-good "pets know when you're ill!" stories, I feel like sending a letter bomb. Other people's pets summon a neighbour/ambulance, snuggle beside them, or even just look sympathetic, for Christ's sake. My devoted cat sat on my head. On. My. Head.

[It would probably be worth noting at this point that anyone hoping to see an entry written under the guise of said pet will be disappointed. People who write to others while pretending to be their cat/dog/wombat ("Dear Grandma - today I caught my first mouse! I ated the whole thing, and then threw up. Mummy was ever so cross, but that's OK, because I pooped in her shoes to give her something else to worry about. Kisses!") are WEIRD. Besides, if the Doctor could type, we all know what he'd write:

Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. Have you fed me yet? Yes? How about a bit more? Are you sure? What if I lie on my back and wave at you? Come on! You know it takes me a good minute or so to roll over. Feed me. FEED ME, YOU EVIL WOMAN.]

I wonder if I can squeeze in another sick day. What are they going to do, fire me?

1 comment:

  1. Message to self - will remember not to speak like my dogs in the 3rd person...Ruby I can't take that chance to being thought of as weird!