Meowing at Birds

I'm pretty sure that I don't need to explain to you why we don't meow at birds through a window. It should be obvious how goddamn stupid that is to anyone who isn't a fucking cat, so instead of wasting my time with that, I'll present you with a short play entitled "Cat Talks to Bird Through Window."
The sun is just rising, and with it, so are the birds. But the humans sleep peacefully because they don't give a shit about birds and sun and because they have to work all fucking day, goddamnit. The cat, who never ever works (ever), leaps to the window and starts meowing at full volume, waking the sleeping humans.
Cat: I'm going to eat you, bird.
Bird: No, you aren't. There's a window between us. I win, you lose.
Cat: Someday there wont be a window, and that's the day I'll fuck you up, you annoying little bird.
Bird: Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I still win now. Birds rule!
Cats: Aaaaahhhhhhh I hate birds! Hate them, hate them, hate them, hate them!
Humans add a shot of esspresso to their coffee that morning, while staring menacingly at the cat. End Scene.
(flickr photo My cat shadow...... by chaffeerobyn; http://www.flickr.com/photos/10165172@N04/858461173/)

Panting

It's starting to get hot again, and that means that dogs are going to start panting. Now, before you go on with your busy day of 80s aerobics exercises and paying overdue bills or whatever it is you do on Saturday like it's no big deal, let me remind you of the complete injustice of dog panting.
A dog pants and everyone's all like, "Oh my, that poor pooch is so thirsty, let's get him some water and give him some love." But if you or I start panting, everyone's all like, "Quick! Call the police! There's a pervert following me around and panting." Now is that fair, dogs? Why don't you stop acting like creeps and learn to sweat like the rest of us?
(flickr photo Rowan the ridgeback by D G Brown; http://www.flickr.com/photos/15193764@N07/2441370264/)

Having a Friend Pick Up Their Poop

You know what, dogs? I don't know what to say. I really don't. I could rant and rave for few paragraphs about how degrading it is to put your poop in a little bag that I'll carry around for blocks afterward, or how you never act grateful or offer to clean up my poop, or how bending down behind your butt to so I can grab a steaming pile of crap isn't my favorite way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but this pisses me off so much that I just don't think I can muster the energy for that rant.
What I will say is that none of my other friends ask me to clean up after them. I only do it for you because you don't have hands. But as soon as you evolve some, this whole thing is over. I'm tired of this shit. Pun intended!
(flickr photo What's really going on here? by brandi666;http://www.flickr.com/photos/brandi666/2777696348/)

My Pet Credentials

I'm going to break from listing the things that pets do for just one post to address a question.
On yesterday's post, Patty asked,"What kind of pets do you have?"
Since I write a blog entitled, "The Things Pets Do" it's only fair that my readers know what my pet resume looks like. Thus instead of posting a brief comment in reply, I've made a full post out of it.
I have my interview tie and suit on, and I'm freshly shaven (and by that I mean I'm sitting in sweat pants with day-old stubble). Here goes.
Current Pets:
I live with my girlfriend while she attends vet school and I work a fairly standard office job. We share our living space with an adopted pit bull mix (which is shelter talk for, "He's really a pit bull, but we have to add 'mix' to his title so people will adopt him, because even though he's a big snuggling goof, there's an a certain stigma that will always go with the title 'pit bull'") named Barney.


We also share the space with two adopted cats: a short haired ginger cat (Frank) and a long-haired tuxedo cat (Oz).




And in a separate room, into which the cats may never venture, there are two pet rats (Maria and Serafina) and a patternless leopard gecko (Kaylee).











Past Pets: I grew up in a pet-obsessed family, so my first 18 years of life were also filled with pets. We always had a dog (a collie that raised me, and when he passed due to debilitating hip arthritis, an Australian shepherd/black lab mix and a Jack Russell Terrier). I have three sisters, each of whom had pets growing up: an aquarium with tropical fish, two pet mice, a box turtle, and two toads. Not one to slack in the pet department either, I had a bearded dragon, a corn snake, a skink, and two hognose snakes.
Finally, I worked in a pet shop throughout high school.
Really, the only time I have been sans pets were the first two years of college.
Do I have the job?