I can tolerate the smelly cat box. I don't like it, but I can tolerate it. (Even though I am not fully convinced, after hours of debate with you, that you are not capable of using the toilet, and don't give me that opposable thumb thing again. I've SEEN it on youtube, but I digress...) After all, you are a cat.
And I have come to terms with the fact that every time I leave the room you lick the peanut butter and honey off of my toast when I'm not looking. I know. You didn't think I knew, but I know. But, after all, you are a cat.
And while I still have not figured out what that sticky substance is on the poker chips or how the hole got in the wall during my weekend away at Boston, with a heavy sigh, I still have to chalk it up to "being a cat".
But drinking all my beer...that's just not cool.
- owner
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