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Hi my stupid cat made friends with a skunk and now I need to burn all the clothes I was just wearing
Thank god I worked from home in Cookie Monster pyjamas today.
Actually, strike that: there are very few clothes in my closet that I like better than my Cookie Monster pyjamas.
Thank god I worked from home in Cookie Monster pyjamas today.
Actually, strike that: there are very few clothes in my closet that I like better than my Cookie Monster pyjamas.
The skunk was christened Dmitri when my middle son, Oliver, found him in our garage trying to make a home in the hockey equipment. We evicted him, or so we thought. https://twitter.com/BarbiturateCat/status/1131044139255123968
I went outside and goddamn does our front yard smell terrible.
This seems like a great time to re-tell my other story of Marley the cat and his friendships with all creatures.
I had just come back from the eye doctor and my pupils were so dilated that I couldn’t focus. I went inside and saw Marley the cat waiting patiently at the back door, so I let him in, and went to the living room to relax and listen to some music.
Marley was clearly hungry — he was gobbling up the food in his dish aggressively, I could hear him pushing it around as he ate. I made a mental note to check with my kids that they had fed him in the morning.
Then I heard a meow at the living room window. I looked out and saw Marley the cat.
I squinted, trying to make sure that I was really seeing him.
He meowed again, his very distinctive meow.
Ah crap, I thought, what cat is in my house?
I squinted, trying to make sure that I was really seeing him.
He meowed again, his very distinctive meow.
Ah crap, I thought, what cat is in my house?
SOME cat was still in the kitchen, eating all the cat food. I went back to see if I could figure out what neighbourhood feline it was.
It was then that I noticed how large it was.
It was then that I noticed how large it was.
Was this the big poofy cat from across the street?
“Is that you, Bella?” I called out to the big fuzzy furball in my kitchen. I came closer, squinting and trying to make out what it was.
It was not a cat.
“Is that you, Bella?” I called out to the big fuzzy furball in my kitchen. I came closer, squinting and trying to make out what it was.
It was not a cat.
Well, once I got close enough, that fuzzball reared up on its hind legs and made an aggressive chattering noise.
“WHAT THE FUCK” I shouted at the groundhog that was gorging itself on my cat food.
“WHAT THE FUCK” I shouted at the groundhog that was gorging itself on my cat food.
I opened all the doors, grabbed a pot and a wooden spoon and proceeded to bang the hell out of it to roust the thing. Mostly I irritated it. My neighbours came over to see what the racket was and one of them said “oh my god why is there a beaver eating your cat food.”
I was like “look, I was just at the eye doctor, I can’t see, it was begging to be let in and I thought it was the cat, also I think it’s a groundhog.”
“It’s like three times the size of your cat, dude.”
“I CAN’T SEE, OKAY?”
“It’s like three times the size of your cat, dude.”
“I CAN’T SEE, OKAY?”
Anyways we had to wait for it to eat 100% of the food and drink all the water in the dish before it would leave. And every day for a month that little bastard returned to my back door and asked to be let in.
I never told my wife the story of the day the groundhog ate all the cat food. She did ask suspiciously if I had been feeding groundhogs one night after she noticed him begging at our back door, but I played it cool.
