Talk about a crazy ol' lady.
So there are peeps out there who feed cats. Peep #1 would be one of 'em, for sure.
And there are peeps out there who feed the birds. My Peep #1 would kinda be one of those, too. We don't actually have a bird feeder...
Some nonsense 'bout us cats lurkin' around bird feeders if she puts one up, she says.
But she plants stuff in the garden that birds like, so I guess that counts as feeding 'em. Sorta. You know, in a weird and crazy kinda way.
And then there are peeps out there who feed...
No. NO. No, there are NOT any peeps out there who feed...
Okay, so there's ONE crazy ol' peep out there who feeds...
WAIT FOR IT...
That's right, Peep #1 was out and about in the garden yesterday, and what did she do?
She fed mosquitoes.
Okay, so that wasn't her original plan. I mean, she didn't actually go to the mosquito store and buy mosquito food or anythin' like that.
She didn't need to. She already had that on hand.
And on arm.
And any and every other part of her that was exposed, too.
You should have seen her when she came indoors. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER, MY FRIENDS. There were traces of blood - hers - and squished mosquitoes all over the place.
Well not exactly all over the place, but all over her arms and legs, for sure. I saw a squished skeeter right in the middle of her forehead, too.
That forehead one was really gross and as a cat, I've seen my fair share of gross things, for sure.
You know, in the warmer months, I get dabbed with that flea stuff, the first of every month. Yup, right there on the back of my neck. Not somethin' I enjoy, or anythin' like that, but the peep says it's important, and...
Well let's just say, I'm not really given a choice in the matter, my friends.
But what I wanna know is this: HOW COME THE PEEP DOESN'T GET DABBED ON THE BACK OF HER NECK?
I'm tellin' ya, it's never a two way street around here. Rules made for us cats are never followed by peeps. Humans think the rules never apply to them.
It's a disgusting state of affairs, for sure.
And you know somethin' else?
Next time I see a skeeter...
Next time I see one of those skeeters, I'm gonna tell him exactly where ol' Peeperoni hangs out.
And then, I'm not gonna tell the peep when she has a skeeter restin' on the back of her leg.
I'm tellin' ya, if it looks like a toy, and moves like a toy...
Well I'm gonna treat it like a toy, for sure.
Contrary to what peeps say, location is most certainly NOT everythin', these days.
A kitty smacks a skeeter off the back of a peep's leg, and gets NOTHIN' BUT GRIEF for havin' done so. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah... That's all I heard. Nothin' but complaints, for sure.
Now come on, Peepers. Be a good little peep and let me dab some flea stuff on the back of your neck.