“I’m back here. Jesus. It’s like he can’t even see through the glass! Hello? I’m right here. Don’t look AT the glass. You need to look THROUGH the glass! Are you simple or something? I’m out here getting drenched to the bone and all you can do is stare directly at the window.” Reginald was not impressed with his owner’s sense of “art.”
Myles knew what real liver tasted like, and despite what was printed on the bag, the taste in his mouth was nothing but a lie.
In a moment of unprecedented self-awareness, Thomas realized that not only was his picture being taken, but he was currently being subjected to an entire genre of amateur photography. Countless other cats had been through precisely the same thing as he was experiencing now. It was as though he could feel a common thread binding him to every other cat who had been caught staring out the window at the rain, and he realized that he was part of something greater than himself.
“Go on. Do tell me more about your day. I care so much. Really, I do.” Among all of the things Cindy prided herself on, being subtle was not one.
Pepper and Lightning spent years competing for everything from treats to their parents’ affection. But on days like today, both were painfully aware that neither would ever be as well liked as the drooling, pants-shitting micro-human. (by Petit_Nuage)
“She’ll be dead one day,” thought Patches. “She can barely get herself dressed anymore, let alone fed. It’s a wonder she manages to deliver my meals every day. When that day comes, I’ll go for the inside of her nose first. Then maybe the eyes. Who knows how long the rest of her will last though? A week? Maybe two, tops? She’s practically rotting already.”
Patches knew better than to form a bond with the ancient Mrs. Crawley. Having been left with an all-too-elderly owner once before, she knew from experience that she’d have to do what she must in order to survive.
Every morning, Ginger would watch as his overseers left down the driveway. And every morning he wondered if they’d ever return. Ginger knew his anxiety was unwarranted, but his inability to put words to his worries prevented him from ever getting the treatment he so badly needed. “Such is life,” thought Ginger.
Pompoms wasn’t quite sure he fully grasped the meaning of this Stockholm syndrome the people had been talking about whenever they looked at him and laughed. Although it made him uncomfortable, he knew he’d rather not concern himself with such things.