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| What?! |
This morning at o-dark-thirty, Miss Crankypants’ adorable trio of felines sat waiting patiently for breakfast. Well, Cranky Cat did take a swipe at Melchior the Very Large, but Mama Mia! growled a warning and they settled down. Miss CP wasn’t quite awake, but she tried not to breathe as she scooped out portions of the Salmon Slurry they love (the cat food company calls it pate!) and set it before les kitties. She shivers just imagining the stuff that goes into this so-called food–from the disgusting smell, there’s probably not much corn in there, although chicken byproduct meal is no doubt slipped in when no one’s looking. EEWWW!
Anyway, they scarf the stuff. Inhale it. Lipsmacking and all. And the whole entire time, here’s Miss Cranky handing out the Daily Babble:
“How’s our wittle kitty-wittys this morning? Oh look, there’s Pally-Wally, Melly-Belly and Mamakitties, being good wittle kitten-kins.”
They ignore her and just chow down, although Cranky narrows his ice-blue eyes and looks daggers at Miss CP. There’s just nothing nice about that cat, OK? Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!
She is undaunted, however, convinced that part of her reason for existence lies in making sure the cats are correctly aligned politically. Here’s a little-known fact: If your pets aren’t on your side, red or blue, then every single vote you cast is automatically cancelled out! Counts for nothing! So you can see why it’s important to get everyone on board.
And in order to do this you must first butter up your tribe of miscreants. Thus, the baby talk.
“Oh, is Palerina (Cranky’s REAL name!) going to cough up a hairball?”
Hork, Hork.
“OH NO! Is my wittle Pal-Pal feeling a little sick in the tum-tum?”
Moments later, Miss Cranky’s shoes report that, yes, Paladine aka Cranky Cat has deposited his breakfast on them in apparent protest.
“But Mama thought you LOVED Salmon Slurry! Num-num-num!”
To which Cranky says, “Pfft!”
Meanwhile, Melchior the Very Large eyes Mama Mia’s leftovers. “You gonna eat that?”
Miss CP cautions them: “No treatie-weaties until you eat your brekkie all gone!”
