Well that pretty much sucks. My first wife (the treacherous whore) had a
cat when I met her; a white Persian who I hated. She used to let it
sleep in bed with her. That stopped when I noticed the clumps of shit
clinging to the fur around his asshole. Anyway, I never got along with
the little fucker, as he was quite a cunt as cats go, and I sometimes
wondered if she loved him more than me. He was such a cunt that she was
unable to bathe him without being torn to shreds by his little claws, so
she had to resort to taking him to the vet, who would anesthetize the
little shit in order to bathe him. During one such procedure, he kicked
the proverbial bucket, and my wife (the whore), was too grief-stricken
to deal with it, so I had to go identify the little monster and sign the
papers allowing them to dispose of him in a dignified manner. At the
time, I saw it as a duty. But I sure didn't miss him. Yes, I am bitter.
--
Kishin