Blogs are hard, guys! I was going to review Dear Thief by Samantha Harvey (since my blog is accidentally named after it) today, but I found myself so uninspired by it that all I have to say is: it was pretty, but I didn’t connect to the characters. Which hardly seems like a fair rap!
So instead I called my friend, and I was like, “Dudez, what should I do for my blog?” (Direct quote, there.)
And she was like, “Uuhh, an amusing anecdote about your life?”
And I was like, “I don’t have any of those.”
And she was like, “Uuuuhhhhh, something about how cute your cats are?” (They are pretty cute.)
And I was like, “You mean how annoying my cats are?”
And she was like, “Yeah.”
So. How annoying are my cats?
They’ve taken to meowing like the souls of the damned. Fuzz started it. He goes down the hall (when we’re all in the kitchen) and spits vowels. He starts low, goes high, and then does this strange warble back in the low notes, like someone’s choking him. Then Socks started doing it, in this rediculous low voice which sounds nothing like his, and is clearly an imitation of Fuzz. And now Shadow’s in on the game, only she does it at three in the morning. I suppose she really likes the idea of a captive audience. Or maybe she’s shy.
Stop guys. Please. Stop.
But they don’t stop.
At least Fuzz has an excuse. He’s deaf, so maybe he can’t hear our plaintive calls of, ‘Out here, cat!’. Or maybe he gets lonely, and scared that everyone in the whole world has suddenly vanished. But Socks and Shadow? Not so much. I think they might be making fun of him.
So that’s how annoying my cats are.
In celebration of annoying, hungry cats, I leave you with this image: