What My Cat Thinks Every Time I Bring A Woman Home…

Good Christ, I’m hungry. It’s Friday night at… 11 PM? Are you kidding me?! He’s usually been home for hours by now, smoking the coughy smoke and watching Shark Tank with that creepy Marc Cuban human. Where is he?! My bowl of fish mush is empty and I haven’t sat on a lap in God knows how long! He better not have gone on vacation. I swear to God if he’s on vacation I am peeing in all the places that make him yell. New places too. The pillows. I’ve never peed on the pillows before. That’ll show him who’s boss. Wait — what’s that? I hear clanging metal pieces! Clanging metal pieces are what open the door! He’s home! Hallelujah! Laps! Fish mush! I never would’ve peed on the pillows, I take it all back! Uh oh. I hear giggling. Giggling from one of the breasty humans. He brought one home. He’s gonna try to do sex. Heaven help us all…

Seriously? Al Green? You’re putting on Al Green? Are you trying to hook up with someone’s Grandma? How about some makeout music made in the last 30 years? Oh, wait… he’s going in the kitchen — time for dinner!… And no, he’s opening a bottle of wine. Because not enough wine is clearly the problem here. Look at her, she can barely sit up straight and you’re getting her more wine? She better not puke on the carpet. I’m the only one who pukes on the carpet in this place, madame…

Oh sure, breasty human, why not sit in my spot on the couch? You’ve been here five minutes, you’ve certainly earned it. Oh no…she’s picking me up. She’s picking me up! She’s lifting from the belly! Why won’t you stop this?! OK. She put me down, on what seems to be, surprise surprise, a more than ample bosom. Real intellectual, my owner. Always talks about looking for a girl with sense of humor. I got news for you, pal, unless the left boob is named Sense and the right one is called Humor, you struck out again. No lady, please don’t kiss my nose. PLEASE DON’T KISS MY NOSE! Uch, your lips are gigantic, and they smell like sad. Just for that, when I jump off your lap, I’m showing you my butt extra long on purpose. And leaving claw marks in your sweater. Hope it was worth it!

Uh oh, here it comes. His big “move.” The hand on the knee that turns into the hand on the thigh then the arm, then back, then it’s mouth city. Pathetic. Can you believe them, licking each other’s tongues like that? Makes me sick. You know those are for your butts, right?! And look at her, giving it up without a liver treat or a simple butt sniff of courtship. What a floozy. Aaand she’s a moaner. Come on, he just kissed your neck, he didn’t discover the cure for cancer, why don’t you take it down a notch. Oh hey, is that a bug in the kitchen!? Or just dust? Hmmm. I’ll be back with you guys in a bit…

OK, here I am. No need to worry. It was a spider thing, but I ate it, so the coast is clear. Now…what is going — where did everybody go? In the bedroom? Come on, still haven’t had dinner out here! I know you can hear me! Oh yeah, definitely close the door, because I’m just dying to get into your room for another eyeful of that thing you call “having sex.” I accidentally walked in on that a few months ago and still haven’t gotten over it. I mean, have you seen yourself do that? It’s a horror show. You know how it looks when I’m in my privacy box trying to shake off the last few pieces of poo? That’s what you look like during sex, except there’s another person there pretending to enjoy it. Seriously, I’ve seen dogs in bandannas with more dignity than you guys…

OK, twenty minutes have passed and the door is still closed. This is a new record. Should I call the cops? I’m really hungry. I hope he’s not starting to like her. That’s how the vacations start. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that the breasty humans love to demand vacations. So… what to do what to do what do? OH look, she left her shoes by the couch. I think we all know what has to happen now. The only question is, do we go pee or puke? Pee or puke? You know what, her boobs were particularly big, we better do them both…