Dear Diary,

The other morning, I was making the rounds. Given that I’m the supervisory-cat-of-household-operations, it’s my job to make sure that every thing functions according to my plan. I walked into Momma’s room, like I do every morning, and yelled, “Get out of bad, Fat Ass! The litter box needs to be cleaned. My dish needs to be filled with kibbles. I need ear squishes. Rise and freakin’ shine!” 

I braced for impact as Momma pulled back the covers. I’m fairly certain the vibrations from her clodhoppers hitting the floor registered at least a 5.0 on the Richter scale.

While she was downstairs micromanaging her offspring, I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast consisting of fresh water and crunchy kibbles. Then I decided to go downstairs and see what was going on. By this time, Momma should’ve had everyone’s lunch prepared.

As I entered the kitchen, the Little Thing’s Minion, a.ka. the five-year-old, looked at me and said, “Gwennie! You’re not my kitty!”

“Little Missy is my kitty,” she continued, as if I cared or something. “She doesn’t hit. She doesn’t spit. She doesn’t slap.”

“—She tolerates your miserable existence,” I interrupted, eager to make her stop talking. “Listen,” I began. “I really don’t give a rat’s behind who your kitty is. MY human is Momma. She’s old. She’s fat. Her skin is dry and her poop stinks.”

And I meant it too, Diary. Her poop stinks! I know this because whenever I need a moment of peace, I run to the bathroom door and howl at it until Momma opens it. And when she does, I happily hide in the plume of her atomic bombs. Anything is better than sharing a space with the three little preverts she gave birth to. If the Little Thing’s Minion wants to covet a wet, moldy, hairball with bad breath and an ugly face, that’s her business.

In retrospect, Diary, Momma is very fortunate I tolerate her existence. Based on the highly accurate description above, I’m amazed anyone wants to share a space with her. Maybe now is a good time to demand a raise.

This is Gwennie, signing off!

Thanks for shopping Snark, Sass, & Sarcasm! I’ll see you next time!