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O, yes, you still live here, don’t you?

June 15, 2009

You’d think it’d be hard to share your home with a creature that has a complete and utter disdain for your existence. Think marriages that you know have lost that spark or children that threaten to shank their parents at night while they sleep with homemade weapons like a toothbrush chiseled into a sharp object. Or Ashley, our cat.

If she could read and use a computer and saw that I referred to her as “our cat…” well… that’s a shank-able offense.

I remember something from my college bio class during the evolution chapter that gray striped cats are the closest, most original link to saber tooth tigers. No, will not site that reference. But tell me that it doesn’t sound true?

So why is she still in my home? Plotting against me? This cat despises our existence 98% of the time (and the dogs 99.75% of the time), but every now and then she gets all purry and cute and curls up in your lap and her ice-y stare almost morphs into something that says “I was just kidding, I wouldn’t really cut your face while you sleep” and you go awwww and think that cats are good, sweet animals.

Last night was not one of those nights.

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