Kitties Aren’t So Nice
I’m about to be shunned by the entire internet. Friends will turn away and my readership will plummet. But before you go, dear reader, please hear me out (and to be fair, have I ever been wrong in the past?) How can I say this…
Cats are evil.
I’m sorry! I know many of you have cats and love them to bits. But they are the devil’s pet! I have been at war with cats for as long as I can remember. My earliest childhood memory is of being attacked by a grey furball that decided chewing a baby would make a nice change from a half-digested starling.
Fluffy the cat made my childhood a misery. That dastardly kitty tried to kill me when I was a toddler. It was Christmas Day and I was innocently watching TV, chocolate-smeared and engrossed in The Wizard of Oz. The scheming feline deliberately jumped on our enormous over-laden Christmas tree, bringing it crashing down on my head and plunging thousands of pin-sharp pine needles into my skull.
“Mummy!” I screamed for days after. “I want a dog!”
My parents eventually caved in and bought me a dog. That will teach that bastard cat. However, my parents plumped the most timid, scardey-cat Collie they could find.
Fluffy ruled poor Sniffles with a rod of iron. Sniffles waited patiently as Fluffy polished off his bowl of Doggy Chow. He slept soundly as Fluffy ripped the defrosting chicken to shreds and sicked up chicken bones around the house. He wagged his tail and lolled his big pink tongue as Fluffy pounced on my head and dug her claws into my eyeballs. So much for my canine protector!
So you see, I don’t have much luck with cats. Any other animal is fine. Put me in a cage with a man-eating wild creature and they’ll just lick my face. Here’s a real, it’s-true-and-not-Photoshopped photo of me with a crocodile.
See? I’ve tickled a crocodile’s belly and even stroked a bear’s paw (it was still attached to the bear). But put a wide-eyed little kitten in my lap and in less than a minute I’ll be dripping with blood and covered in cat fur.
There must be a way to make cats like me. Start smoking catnip? Toss kitty treats in my path wherever I go? Or accept that me and the feline world will never see eye-to-cat-eye and just buy a large shotgun?
And did I ever tell you about the time I got attacked by a Shetland pony…?
They have a worrying catnip addiction over at Humor-Blogs.com
I joined a youth orchestra and spent my weekends playing concerts in musty town halls. The highlight of our season was the Christmas Gala performance at the swanky city concert hall.
3. I don’t like heights. My worst vertigo nightmare was at the Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona. I’d bravely decided to climb the stairs of the spire, but ten steps up the narrow spiral staircase I decided I’d seen quite enough. Unfortunately a group of German tourists suddenly pushed their way behind me; there was no chance of escape. The only way was up, up, up, up…
4. I can’t drive. No, that’s not true. I can drive, just not in a way that is acceptable to everyone else on the road. I like to travel at 100 miles an hour everywhere, especially in school zones (the kids think it’s cool). I ease into tight parking spots by nudging other cars out the way. I often forget I am supposed to wear my glasses until halfway through the trip. I like slamming on the brakes and making the tires squeal, especially in school zones.
Super Dave headed to the docks in his truck. The port was in lock-down after a shipment from China had sparked a formaldehyde alert. Containers filled with cheap soft furnishings from Shanghai were stacked by the dockside – no-one would open them until the fumes inside had dissipated. Unfazed by the risk of noxious chemicals, Super Dave set to work with a pair of bolt cutters.
