Dear Cat:
Perhaps I am incorrect in this, but it is my assumption that there are only two of you home during the day. As it stands, I scoop your box twice a day: before I leave for work and before I go to bed. That means today, when I left the house, your box was devoid of anything but lovely blue crystals. However, when I came home, it was full. Not full in a "two cats share this" manner, full as in "Jesus Christ, who brought in an elephant with a spastic colon". There is no possible way that two cat could produce the sheer amount of poop in that box.
How do you manage this? I was gone for four and a half hours. Do you start plotting the night before, scarfing down extra kibble, while snickering to yourselves? I know you don't save it up because you are more efficient in waking us up than an alarm clock. Do you just hop in and go to town as soon as you hear the door close or do you have a schedule? I am also curious as to what percent of your total weight is poop. I am estimating it is at least 65%.
I know that your entire afternoon was not devoting to befouling your box, Cat, because when I had arrived home, there were two (2) ceiling tiles on the floor. Oh, you can tell me there was plausible deniability for one, but the other had very incriminating claw marks. I understand that we do, indeed, reside in a basement, and that does make you Basement Cat in the most literal sense of it, but that does not make your sister Ceiling Cat. She doesn't need to be encouraged to ascend to the fibreglass gates nor do you need to reenact Basement Cat's fall from grace several times a week. Most cats play tag; you two have to play Angels and Demons. Let me tell you, Cat, there's none of the former here.
Having discussed that, I would also like to make clear that those funny boxes on the wall are not a funky new style of cat abode, pre-stocked with delicious noms. Let me give you a brief rundown: your noms are in tins, mine are in everything else. A bag of uncooked egg noodles is your food. I understand your frustration, finding these wondrous treats, yet lacking thumbs to boil water. It was an excellent effort, the chewing a hole in the bag and eating them extra al dente, but it was wholly unappreciated.
It is not acceptable for me to have to wrench you from the cabinet while you complain bitterly. Yes, the cabinet does not shut tight, that is still not an acceptable excuse. Once again, Cat, I have the thumbs and you do not. It is complete overkill for you to flop, dramatically, to the floor, ~*~DEAD~*~, because of the horrible injustices I have done you. I know you're faking and it doesn't work.
Lastly, Cat, I know knitting!things have suddenly! appeared! and this is exciting!! Just a couple guidelines:
- Knitting needles ≠ chew toys, especially if you're chewing on the active needle.
- I cut my yarn when I need it. You chewing on my yarn til it breaks is not the same thing.
- Batting the active yarn does not delight me, as it does you. What it really does is mess with my gauge.
- Licking the yarn -- VORBOTEN!
- Eating the yarn -- VORBOTEN!
If you do imbibe yarn, I retain the right to laugh at you and post pictures of the removal of said yarn, possibly in MACRO form.
I do believe this covers all of this week's issues. I would appreciate if the elephant can find another place to defecate. I am not qualified for that much shit. I also except that there will be no more Ceiling Cat issues, particularly ones that end with broken mugs and ruined tiles.
closetospring at SIGNAL BOOSTING EVERYWHERE
