What a rotten dayI was having a pleasant Saturday morning. I ate some delicious meat-meat-&-more meat cat food that Mom bought us at Whole Foods. Then I had my morning poo. I was lounging on Mom & Dad's new IKEA furniture when she brought IT downstairs.
The cat carrier. It never bodes well when THAT thing is brought out. We knew what was coming--one of us was going to the freaking vet. As luck would have it, it was ME.
I hate the vet. Hate hate HATE the vet. They poke me, prod me, touch me in bad places, and then tell me I'm fat. Know what? They can kiss my fat ass.
So we arrive at the vet. Mom lets some sticky-faced, dirty little urchin pet me. Almost as much as I hate vets, I hate KIDS. Especially that kid. She was stinky and dirty and wouldn't shut the hell up. After a good 15 mins of her riveting tale of the neighbor's cat who is either a boy or a girl or a dog or a llama (who could tell with her rambling, unfocused story) and her petting my fur the wrong way, I finally screeched, "Dirty bitch!!" in cat language. It startled her and she pulled her hand back. Score one for the fat calico!
Here's the kicker. After this horrible experience of bloodletting and name-calling, we get back in the car. Now I'm a classic rock fan. That's how Nixon rolls. The Who, the Stones, Journey. Pure GOLD (see that pic over there to the right--remember that badass cat in the Stones' Harlem Shuffle video? Who can't love that?!) After a long morning of evil tagteam Vet and Child, all I wanted for the ride home was to kick back in my carrier and sing a little duet with Mick Jagger.
Let me tell you all a little secret about MOM. She claims she is so cool, musically. "I love Queens of the Stone Age," "My favorite band is Radiohead," and "I just looooooooove Ween." Mmhhmm. Well, when it's just me and her in the car, bitch sings along with "Gold Digger" and Ashley Simpson. Yeah, I told your little secret Mom. Stop taking me to the vet because I got a lot more dirt on you, lady.