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Hello. My name is Poppy and I will be your guest columnist today. It is imperative that you read this post so that all misinformations, innuendos, blasphemies, and rumors stop immediately.
Cats are not instruments of Satan. Do you really think we cats care what old Sulfur Breath has to say? We aren't minions of the devil. We aren't minions of anyone. We bow to no man or beast, unless of course we feel like mocking you and then we might entertain the idea. We aren't demons in little fur coats. We don't want your soul, your blood, or your still-beating heart. We do deeply covet your thumbs, however.
We do not make elaborate 7-course gourmet meals while you are at work and dine lavishly. We rely on you for the stinky goodness from a can, bullshit dry cereal, and lovely lovely crunchies we subsist on. We are not heathens though and expect our dinners to be beautifully plated and served with a garnish by our waitstaff. Since you fail to do this so often we are forced to turn up our noses at your offerings.
We are not making a nuclear device or any other weapon of mess destruction under the couch. Those bits of ribbons, copper, fuzzy balls, metal piping, furry mice with missing tails, snippets of multicolored wire, milk jug rings, plutonium, crinkly plastic, and alarm clock parts are random things we found in
your house and stashed under there. Hey, maybe Homeland Security should be checking
you out.
We're not evil. I don't know how this slander starts and purr-petuates. Just because we'll eat your face off after you die unattended in your house doesn't make us bad. We do that out of love and respect. Okay, no wait! We do that for comedy.
The Fine Print: I have no idea where mom gets all these whackjob thoughts from. We just cute little kitties who purr and make your lives complete... ly miserable. But you know, we can't all be perfect. Cards 'n parts by Club Scrap the Spring Chorus kit.