Meow.
Meow.
Quit talkin' to yerself.
Be bitin' her had I not had chicken to bite.
Weirdo.
... I have been taken aback in the cat toilet. Literally, with a jam jar to my nethers.
They been stickin' me with prickers!
... Fuck ICE.
I regret to inform my public that I got the diabetes. However, rest assured that there is absolutely no chance this will turn into one of those godforsaken "life with a special needs cat" influencer accounts, with all twee music and weepy emoji subtitle crap. In this house, the biting continues.
It sings specifically to ME. It's great.
The Starcat, a grey tortie, sitting contentedly on her CraftyCow lap mat in spite of the shaved patch on her neck from a blood test earlier
I got tooken to the vet and they stabbed me in the neck. You'd think I'd be annoyed, but honestly I'm just happy to be home.
It's singing to me.
I like a little song.
Somebody's gotta check the water quality around here.
Get away with you and your underhand accusations. And feed me.
It happens.
πΆDon't stop scoopin',
everybody's poopin'.
Biscuits in my tum going round
and then down.πΆ
Excellent.
Meow-ow!
I think I know this guy.
... Me in particular.
All Cats Are Beautiful.
Fft!
Everything is horrible. Do you know I'm not allowed OUT when it's WET?
I am Starcat
and when I see
the bowl quite empty
before me,
I fix you with
my plaintive stare.
You might at least
put bread in there.
An outrage.
Ffft! Fffft!
Sometimes you gotta get in with the bin.
Tag me properly.
Trying to give the boy a lesson in vigilance. I bap! That's a bappin'. Should have seen it coming.
SNEAK ATTACK! Look sharp, son. Geez.
Hmm. Yes. Weather.