sweasel.com

Now that’s a good cat!

When he was about half grown, my neighbor took me aside and asked if he was deaf. On account of he ran up and attacked her lawnmower. While it was running.

He’s also been known to assault the Sweeping Broom, every cat’s ancestral enemy.

Oh, he’s a wild man, that one.

Yep. You can tell by the self-confidence in his eyes, and his cute cuddly willingness to slit your throat with a paw-full of razor sharp claws – without batting an eyelash, of course.

I never could respect an animal lacking in self-respect. You can tell …

Dogs. Meh.

While our dog is quite “I want you! Play with me! I want you!” he’s also quite self-centered.

Today he and I had a little back-and-forth where I wanted to take him out so he could pee, and he kept going back into the garage to jump on Mom’s car, his way of saying, “I want a car-ride! Take me in the car!” I was like, “No! First pee and poo and then we’ll go. Promise.” Then he’d run back into the garage, “I want to go in the car NOW!”

And if you’re angry with him, he’ll ignore you until you make up with him.

He’s the adorablest little thing evar.

BTW: he’s scared of balloons, plastic bags, and boxes. He’ll run after the vacuum cleaner, but will run away when it goes in his direction.

yeah, but does he like badgers?

Oh, yes, PnB. He likes badgers.

He says they’re delicious.

Does he eat them raw or in pickled bits and placed in his momma’s fridge?

Oh boy is that one cute furry little ball of concentrated Evil.

The true measure of a feline’s evil quotient is whether they are involved in canning and/or dehydrating/smoking that which they kill. If they take an unhealthy interest in the Food Network, you’re in deep kitty-doo.

That said, the lawnmower thing has left me utterly disturbed and concerned for your well-being, Stoaty. That just ain’t right. You expect that kind of behavior from drunk fraternity guys but not felis domesticus.

Oh, Uncle B totally OWNS this evil little fucker, thanks to the Miracle of the Internet. A group of neighborhood children brought Damien to my back door (on 6/6/06) when he was an adorable six-week-old fluffball. I was going to rehome him, which is easy at that age, but Uncle B got a look at him on the webcam and he was all, like, “you’re not getting rid of that beautiful animal, are you?”

So!

Yep. Cats – especially li’l 6-week furballs – have a master key to my heart.

Kids brought it to YOUR back door? That says something about you, Weaz. Neighborhood kids can be a very good judge of personal character. They would never take a kitten to an asshole.

They weren’t children. They were Satanic homunculi delivering the antichrist on 6/6/06.

Why do you think we called the bastiche Damian?

Damned fine, cat, all the same 😉

the lawnmower thing has left me utterly disturbed and concerned for your well-being,