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Cats must be humiliated almost constantly or they will take on airs.
When it comes to walking straight lines here on this farm, the order goes: cow, duck, chicken, rabbit, cat, human, dog; yet oddly enough, when it comes to telling a straight story, the order goes: cow, duck, chicken, rabbit, cat, dog, human.
I’ve never actually tried to herd cats, but I’m pretty certain that herding the paperwork in my office is by far the more difficult task.
Bob had many cats, and had taught all of them to walk around the house on their hind legs, which he thought made them look proper and sophisticated; it also irritated his one and only dog, whom he had never liked very much.
My cats are also as vain as toast.
Small children who are pretending to be sick, but who spend the morning torturing the cat and giggling insanely, must be firmly denied any kind of happy fun for quite some time.
In a dream I had last night, aliens were turning people into animals, and even though I’d been turned into a cat, I remember these things happening - when I ran, it was in great big strides like I still had two long legs, I was walking through a downtown and came across an art gallery whose sidewalk out front was made entirely of headstones, laid on their backs, and that I went inside the gallery after being lured in by a woman who seemed to be the owner and was offering me a slice of cake, and that once inside, I kept looking out a side window, insisting to people who passed between the buildings that I had not been turned into a cat, but was, in fact, a duck.
I’ve decided to hook up my cats to small treadmills, and decode their little steps (long, short, long long short short) to write sentences.
My daughter told me the reason you can’t hear cats’ flatulence is that they don’t have large primate asses like ours.
With my brother out of town, it falls on me to play Santa for his three mangy cats, who I imagine are this very second standing outside in the dark next to their food bowls, expecting nothing less than a miracle.
Bob had been both loved and hated by the various mother-in-laws he’d had over the years; he’d had similar experiences with house cats.
In the quiet she heard the cat clear her throat and say “Eh wot?” in her best cockney accent, which I must tell you was not very convincing.
It turns out that while I’m busy giving my sister’s cat some quality time while she’s away overseas, the sister is finding time to party with Royalty - go figure!
Through the corner of his eye he could see his cat, settled sphinx-like upon the Persian rug in the sunroom.
I’m back, I’m exhausted, my cat did not recognize me at first, and I’m addled on medication, but by damn I’m BACK and it feels excellent.
“Well, your concept definitely has merit,” she told her son, “but I’m not sure how we’d get the antibiotics into a high-pressure hose in order to force them into your cat, much less hold him down for the process.”
It was a reluctant, slow sunrise, and in the grudging light she opened the back door and thought to herself, where the hell is my cat?
I don’t know about you, but looking at a cat’s eye from the side, seeing that thick, rounded translucent part, really makes me curious about poking.
You know you must be sick when it’s a stinking hot day and your cat still thinks he should sleep on your lap and not let you move.
I know you’re going to say I should have already found the bathroom trash can and gotten rid of that old sack of potatoes next to the toilet, but then what would Barncat have peed on after charming his way into the house this morning?
Marrying into a female cat, for someone who has always had male cats, is surprisingly easy.
Don’t try to type with your cat on your arms.
Sometimes when the cat pukes I miss not having a dog around because they’re so good at cleaning that stuff up.
If you’re like me and trying to catch a thief who’s been stealing things from your barn, you’ll maybe want to reconsider setting up that ingenious amateur burglar alarm (baby monitor, with receiver right next to your ear on your pillow) because if your barn cat is anything like mine, he’s most likely holding organized hissing and growling matches with all of the other neighborhood cats; these matches begin promptly every thirty minutes and seem to last the entire night, or at least until you finally give up on the idea of sleep.
Birds know a lot more than you think, but cats pretty much let it all hang out.
My cat had the hiccups.
I think my cat is jealous of all things gadgety (or it could just be anything that appears on my lap).
The cats bowls have little moats around them - it’s necessary for even the dry food - but still, the ants come… right under the front door and up the hallway like they own the place and even ‘Rid Ant’ won’t stop them.
Keith’s a cat!
It’s full of very weird people in cat-suits, that’s for sure.
As I rescued a baby rabbit from the grips of my cats mouth and sent the seemingly unharmed creature on its way, I can’t help but wonder if being brought to the brink of death by a being greater than yourself only to be let go and probably die of fright later anyway is covered in the Geneva Conventions.
If the birds don’t quit stealing all of the cat hair off of my back porch, I’m afraid it’s going to lose that charming Southern backwoods feel I’ve worked so hard at attaining; what are they going to do next, carry off the recliner and washtub?
Truth be told, the cat never sat on the mat.
There’s no point in trying to type wehen a cat is nuzzling at your hands in a bid for attention.
Bronwyn looked around the office wondering whether it would be better (less bad?) to drink warm gin from the cat bowl or directly from the bottle.
For some reason, teenage cats offer the highest quality petting experience; they have finally learned how not to scratch you, and they have not yet realized they’re too cool to be seen with you.
I suspect all cats and dogs consider their true name to be ‘Fang’, even (especially) the pink-ribboned ones named Tiddles.
The door handle seemed closer to the cat door from the outside.
If I make cute noises, will someone give me food?
It was the dog that brought Leonard the cold which laid him out on the couch for a week, and while the dog proceeded to have a great time, contentedly sleeping with its head on Leonard’s stomach day after day, the cat grew incensed at the loss of its best nap spot, and began to plot revenge.
Today I had to have my bunny Oscar put down which was a little distressing - he had a full bunny life and was an old man - but I wish I could just slip a duplicate bunny in and hope the cat doesn’t realise there’s anything is up as I’m not looking forward to the backlash that comes with a feline in mourning.
#1: while doing dishes, the phone rings, and you don’t have a dish towel handy, but your beloved cat is roaming the counter despite your multiple attempts at spraying her off- pick her up, dry off hands (cat runs from counter) and you answer phone.
It’s pretty darn hard to meditate when you have a cat dancing on your head.
While to some it may seem like laziness, I know that my cat spends 22 hours a day on the same cushion of the couch in pursuit of her dream to be the first animal/fabric molecular fusion.
Did you know there’s a Scrine for cats where instead of posting sentences they post interesting smells.
Sara couldn’t explain her feline tendencies but she was content to perch on top of the refrigerator.
Squirrels, cats and ducks are the real axis of evil.
When my cat wouldn’t let me pet him then jumped off the deck railing and walked toward me a little too fast, I had a flashback of his mother and quickly ran into the house.
An hour after the paramedics had left, taking Thomas T. with them, the cat found himself extremely irritated that any man could have such an easily forgettable name.
“I understand the suffering of humans, believe me, I do,” Thomas T.‘s cat told the Humane Society grief counselor that insisted on talking to him, “as a matter of fact, we cats consider your suffering one of our greatest achievements.”
“Who will open my cans now?” wondered the cat of late lamented Thomas T., swishing its tail as it gazed down at the rows and rows of tract homes.
You have to think of cleaning the cat box as treasure hunting, or it’ll be unthinkably horrifying.
By looking at this picture, you enter yourself into a non-verbal agreement which states that you will buy me one.
You don’t mess with Schrödinger; He’ll straight up kill you like a cat, maybe.
Whip that dude until he agrees to stop playing the sax.
Maybe I can train the cats to clean their own damn box, and then I can hire them out to the neighbors.
My children have been using my lipstick, and it only makes my cats that much more jealous.
Cats and plans come from different universes.
If you want your dog to embrace your Christian beliefs, never mention the word catechism unless you tell him its a bottomless void at the edge of Heaven where God tosses all the dead cats.
If you want your cat to embrace your Christian beliefs, never mention the word dogma unless you tell him it’s Latin for “No Dogs Allowed.”
In those days, you could tell a wholesome town by the presence of well-trimmed milk mustaches and the number of barber shops owned and operated by cats.
Some thought it was cruel that he’d taught his dog how to send text messages, but only after they found out that he’d given his dog’s number out to the neighborhood’s stray cats.
Playing Scrabble with a cat is weird.
In the past week alone, I have heard the cat say “meh,” “naaaah,” “hmmmm,” and “This James Bond movie is tedious; please turn it off,” which, granted, she didn’t actually say out loud, but we interpreted her sitting directly in front of the tv during You Only Live Twice as meaning.
The day that Bronwyn’s cat eschewed the $2 cream cheese for the $5 goat cheese and the melted $5 ice cream for the melted $13 ice cream was the day Bronwyn decided that the cat could get her own damn Draeger’s frequent shopper card.
A cat, when positioned correctly, is a useful, low cost and, above all, quiet indicator of an efficiently running solar system.
She can say “meh” with absolutely perfect pitch, but she hasn’t quite got the hang of the accompanying shrug.
New vocabulary words for the month include “wow,” “nah,” “meh,” and one particularly vociferous “WHAAAT?!”
Kittens, while not known for their incredible acts of daring do, remain, nonetheless, the masters of understated chaos and destruction.
When the Chief saw what the hoarder had left for him, he knew right away that he was destined to star on the next episode of that hoarder show he'd seen on television, but his luck ran out when the producers discovered he'd stretched the truth a bit, and there were, in fact, no dead cats.
Secrets regarding any sort of rendezvous should never be told to a cat.
I've sometimes been told that I'm slow to pick up on social signals, so tell me, when a woman I met in a professional setting emails me a day later attaching an unsolicited picture of her pussy, should I consider it a come-on?
While it would be years before the IRS would catch on to Henry's tax dodge scheme of hiring his neighbor's cats for various odd jobs, the scam did eventually fall apart when Mr. Pickles proved to be a halfway decent publicist.
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