I'm telling you Mr Cat is proof there is a God in Heaven full of joy and love. The moment I got home Mr Cat starts talking smack to me and chases after me attacking my leg. I lay down on the bed and he's after my toes as if they are made of beef jerky.
Sure he has attitude. He owns me and I love him for it. I am his toy to knaw on whenever he gets the urge. He doesn't care if I kick him across the room or spin him around in circles so fast he gets drunk. He just comes right back at you asking for more. And then he just lays there, winking I love you. Stupid cat. It's a good thing I didn't name him or I'd really be attached.
