Making Words Work for You
A blog written by a cat. A disgruntled, cranky, sarcastic, cat. You’ve been warned.
Dear Diary, Momma has yet again managed to ruin my life by sucking all of the joy out of small, insignificant moments that somehow lift me up, making me feel like the truly superior feline that I am. via GIPHY As an official member of the Society for Exceptionally Fluffy, Exquisitely Soft, Felines, I can …
Dear Diary, I have concerns. Very serious concerns about Momma’s littlest thing. I’ve spent a lot of time researching sociopaths and have come to the conclusion that Momma’s littlest thing is most definitely a sociopath. Frickin’ memes! How am I supposed to get anything done with them jumping up my butt every three seconds? via …
Dear Diary, My life is horrible and awful. Every three years I’m shoved into a carrier where I’m left for hours and hours with no food or water and it’s all because of Boy-Dadda and his ridiculous need to follow someone called “The Navy” around all over the place. This last move was by far …
Hello, everyone! This is Gwennie. I know it’s been a very long time since you’ve heard from me so I’m going to take this opportunity to remind you of a few things. First, I’m a cat. My full name is Gwendolynn Anne Marie Stefani Collins Silver. I’m the supervisory cat-in-charge of household operations at the …
Dear Diary – I applied for a job as a professional blogger!
You may not know this, but before the Little Thing and his Minion, I used to be Momma’s one, true love. ME!!! It was live with Gwennie for 24/7. My life was wonderful. Honestly, I don’t know what Momma sees in the Little Thing or his Minion. They scream. They poop their pants. They leave …
Dear Diary, The most horrible, awful thing happened to me. I found myself locked inside the basement this evening. The basement is barricaded off to prevent the Little Thing and his minion from climbing down the stairs. But every night Momma and Boy-Dadda are supposed to open it up after the little preverts go to bed. Tonight …
Dear Diary, Early this morning I awoke with a horrible tummy ache. I climbed the stairs in absolute agony to find Momma and tell her all about my tummy ache. I barely made it into the kitchen when my stomach contents ejected all over the wood floor. The only thing worse than tossing your kibbles …
What’s worse than having to wait days until Momma can get off her over-sized rear to write my blog? Sham Farce!!! That’s who! Look what he sent me! So I gave him a good what-for in my email. Suffice it to say, I no longer have any interest in working for Sham Farce or Pilcrow …
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