Why I Hate Stupid Cats.

God, cats are awful.

I just walked to the gas station to get a bottled water and some sunshine and I saw a cat with his gross ears and asshole hanging out by a tree like he had a right to the earth.

"Don't touch me. Oh god please don't meow."

To me, all cats have scabies and scurvy. I don't know what either of those things really present as far as visible symptoms go, but I know that pirates get them. They just sound gross enough to belong to a cat.

I'm just too needy of a person to be a cat owner. They're so emotionally unavailable. Like they're trying really hard to be superior to me and my bullshit.

My sister has two cats and I have taken care of them when she's been out of town. One of them stays behind the dryer and hisses at me like it knows I want to drown it. The other one has assjuice. I'm not entirely sure what that is but go ahead and add it to the list of reasons that Jesus didn't intend for us to keep cats in our home. All I know is, the cat smelled like a mixture of gasoline and poop vomit and when I questioned this my sister politely informed me that it was just his assjuice and some had gotten on my shirt.

I instead choose Charlie, my Yorkie. Instead of assjuice, scurvy, scabies, and aloofness; he pees on the bed, has pink eye, and when I grumpily push him away from my face he casually crawls back towards me and licks me passionately and softly on the cleavage.

I have to have an animal that needs me to that capacity.