The Last Straw

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

 My 18th birthday was approaching...
and I contemplated the opportunities that the law now permitted me to seize.
I settled on the obvious.
So on my birthday, I drove to the local animal shelter in Fredericksburg, VA.
There were cages and cages full of stinky cuties.
One cat particularly caught my attention. 
He was sitting in the back of his cage in his own litter box.
He was covered in poop and he was super stinky. 
 He was perfect.
When I put my face to his cage, 
he made the strangest noises and 
pressed his face against the bars 
and stuck his little shit-covered paws out and reached for me.
I took Stimpy home that same day and got him all set up in my room.
He had a bed, toys, food, water and CATNIP.
For the litter, I thought I'd try to train him to use the toilet.
It can be done, I swear.
I fixed a pan on litter underneath the toilet seat to train him.
 The idea is to get him used to using the litter pan in the toilet,
and then eventually take it out.
 Stippy loved his potty.
 But he missed every time. 
Stupid cat.
So I just set up a regular litter box in the corner of my room 
for the big dummy.
 But he just pooped all over the floor and sat in the clean litter. 
 One day I thought he was really getting the hang of it.
I found him in his box...front paws in the litter...back paws out of the box.
 He pooped on my fucking wall.
On my WALL.
On my wall.
That was the last straw.
Now Pimpy poops outside. 
Probably eats it.
Stupid cat.

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