Bad Kitty, NO!

I, honestly, wasn't going to blog about this. However, I'm still a bit peeved and need to get this off of my chest. *deep breath*

As you know, I have a cat. Her name is Juicy and she is a shelter cat. We've had her for *counts fingers* about six years. When I went to the shelter to meet Juicy, she was the friendliest cat in the entire room. She purred, she sat in my lap, she nuzzled and talked to me. I was hooked. I forked over the $65 for her adoption fee and signed the adoption papers and took her home. From the moment we walked through the front door, she ceased to be "my" cat. Gone was the purring, the lap sitting and the nuzzling. Oh, there was still talking, but it was of the "I need food/water/clean crapping pan" variety. She is, for all intents and purposes, my husband's cat. Why? I have no freaking clue. Granted, I learned long ago that whenever my husband enters the room angels sing and rays of sunshine escape from between his ass cheeks, but...come ON! How could I not be her favorite?! I'm the one that feeds her, cleans her shit pan and takes her for her vet appointments. I'm the one that buys her those delectable snacks that my husband is so fond of feeding her. Oh, she gives me affection alright. She sleeps at the end of the bed, on my side of the bed. Not because she loves me, though, but because I'm not a freaking giant like my husband is. Trust me, if she could, she'd be all over Chewbauca's side of the bed.

Anyway, I've been sick this past week. No, it's not H1N1, as everyone keeps asking me. It's a cold. A simple run of the mill, wishing I was dead, cold. I spent all of last weekend in a Promethazine w/ Codeine induced coma (it was wonderful. I highly recommend it, if you're in search of a new hobby). During this time and all of this week, I still made sure that the needs of Juicy were met. She even sat with me on the couch, last night, as I watched Grey's Anatomy. I should have figured that something was up when she crawled into my lap and purred. After my show was over, I went up to our room to put something away. I rounded the end of the bed...that was when I saw it. In the middle of my side of the bed laid a giant cat turd. I was mad, yes, but even more so...I was hurt! Why me?! What the F$@% did I do to deserve a cat shitting?! My husband, clearly not sympathetic to my plight, laughed. That freaking sasquatch LAUGHED...at me! All he could offer up was "you must have done something to piss her off". Dude, I haven't done anything to the damn cat. I take care of her dumbass! Needless to say, the cat is wise to steer far away from me, for she just might become a strange stain in the carpet.