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I have something to confess to you all. It may be a shocker to some of you who know me. I fully expect mocking to follow this important announcement.

I’m scared of cats.

I know, I know, it’s completely silly. I’ve owned cats. I had a few when I was a kid, and they weren’t family cats, they were all mine because I begged my parents for them. I had to care for them and love them and hug them. But all the while, I was waiting in fear.

Cats are fucking insane.

They will convince you they need to be pet, and then as soon as your hand reaches forward they will tear into you like a fat kid on food. It is bizarre! If any dog did that we’d put them down for aggression! But cats, no. We make excuses and forgive them and wait for them to do it again.

We all know they will do it again.

So my last foray into owning a cat was about 7 years ago. His name was Moo Cow Keet. Yes, he had a middle name. And yes, he looked like a cow. But the best part of his name is still to come. If you say all three words really fast, it will sound like you are ordering a chinese dish.

Irony was on of my superpowers at birth. Much like sarcasm and awesomeness.

I would never turn my back on this, or any other cat. When I walk by them, I always carefully turn so that I am facing the cat. Because the moment I turn my back on them, they are coming for me. Moo once jumped on the back of Hubster’s calf. With his claws and teeth, Moo reminded Hubster who owned the upstairs hallway.

And then Moo casually let go and pranced into Hubster’s lap for a little TV cuddle time.

Like I said, insane motherfuckers.


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