I really love my cat. I am aware of how much that makes me fall into the crazy cat lady section of the internets, but I am 100% ok with that. Because I love my cat. Starting university in Canada was a rougher and scarier transition then I let people know. When my resting bitch faced pimp came into my life a lot of those anxieties started to disappear. Even when all the health drama and other things started going down my cat could make all of the go away. So the lil dip-shit takes advantage of that.
There has never been anything in this world I’ve seen really bother him since I’ve picked him up off the streets except his carrier. Not even airplanes. But the moment you try to get him in a carrier he panics. When he is in a carrier he panics….and poops. Every time. The vet always looks at me like drug your cat and I always look at them like I am a mother and I am not drugging my baby. Getting him into a carrier is hard enough when he looks up at me with that face like, “Mom. Why are you bing such a traitor? Why do you want me burned alive? I thought you loved me?” *Sigh*
Me cat. You have aids. Your yearly check ups and shots are extremely important. I only wish my heart didn’t have to hurt every time I see your panic attacks…