My only problem with my owners when it comes to health is that they claim to be looking out for us but I’m somehow not convinced. Every month they corner us and sprinkle this cold liquid on our backs. What’s all that about? They tell me it’s for fleas but I have my doubts. Why would I want fleas?
Every three months Beard Face will head into the kitchen, that delightful sound of a tin opening is followed by the alluring scent of fresh tuna and for a nanosecond I think to myself, “I love you Beard Face.” The old boy emerges some time later with the tuna. We eat, it seems nice, then our eyes widen and we gasp. He’s laced it with that white power again. He claims it’s for worming but I’m convinced it’s poison.
Don’t get me started on those trips to the vets. “We’re just going out for a bit, Mr Kain, everything is fine.” Yeah, in your world, you lying toe rags. No trip to the vets involves everything being fine. How much more must an honest cat like me suffer?