The other things, like the jewelry, are clearly useless. I hope my human sticks to auctioning exercise DVDs and videos — those I don’t have to pose with.
Then there was the horrible hairball remedy incident. My human knows I hate the Petromalt
Boodie wasn’t fooled for a second.
Binga, the freak, begged for it! She’s nuts.
I could smell that stuff from a mile away, so I ran off. So my sneaky human waited for me to take a nap — then she smeared it on my chest!
I was so grossed out that I ran downstairs. I sat on the bass case, washing off the goo and wishing desperately that the case had been open so I could have wiped the stuff all over the plush interior.
Finally something good happened — my birthday! I was really anxious to find out what my human got me this year. It appeared to be bigger than a collar (yay!), but smaller than a new cat tree (darn!).
This year she wrapped it in a gift bag, which is even more fun than wrapping paper.
I finally got the box out of the bag — it was something called a “Panic Mouse.”
I couldn’t quite figure out what it was supposed to do.
My human stuck a toy on the end of its metal tail. I waited for something to happen. And waited.
It turns out my human forgot to put batteries in it!
I even checked in the box to make sure there weren’t any there. Nope. Empty. How lame is that?
So a couple of days later she finds batteries and puts them in (did I say she’s terminally slow?). She turned on the Panic Mouse and the toy whipped around like mad.
In fact, it whipped around a little too madly. I thought maybe it’d be better to play with it from a higher perch.
I didn’t like that either, so I tried batting at it from under the chair.
I came to the conclusion that this thing was dangerous! So I decided to look for a safer toy. And found one.