Something interesting: my entire nose fits into just one of the Woman’s nostrils. She gets all pissy on me when I do this, but what does she realistically expect? I mean, come on! Something up there smells like it buried itself in deep and died. It’s putrid, foul, and disgusting smelling. I love it!

It’s not like I bother her every ten minutes for catch a whiff. Out of common courtesy I wait until she’s asleep. I creep very carefully onto her sleeping body, sit gently, and jam my nose up the closest nostril as far—and as delicately as I can. It’s not as is I’m trying to wake her up. It’s not my fault if she a)sleeps too lightly, and b)has this thing about me standing on her boobs.

I don’t know about these bipeds. I’ve already made it clear that cats don’t love people, but the Woman keeps picking me up and cooing “I knoooowwwww you lovvvve me.”

Look, lady, you paid someone to cut my nuts off. No, I don’t love you. Besides, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t get so bent out of shape when I stand outside the bedroom door at 3 a.m. to sing. I have a good voice—you should sit up, listen, and appreciate the gift of my musical talent.

Oh, and tell the Man that if he ever locks me in the bathroom again, I’m going to poop on his pillow.

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