Minkey is driving me crazy. I'm a pretty tolerant person and can put up with rudeness--to a point and then I either tune the rude person out or walk away--but this cat, this ever talking cat, this rude cat, who talks, but never listens is DRIVING ME CRAZY! I cannot tune him out. I can not walk away--I live here.
I told him today, "Minkey, you don't need to express your every thought!"
His response, "Meaaaow."
He does not have a sweet voice. His voice went through a meat grinder, was drug across a Nevada cactus field, got dumped in a vat of rusty nails, was basted with vinegar and then was installed into his voice box. To say it is irritating is like calling the Grand Canyon and interesting place with a river at the bottom. There is no adjective to describe his voice.
If I hang my left hand down and scratch his back, fondle his ears, pat his head he shuts up but the minute I remove my hand to type, he complains. He needs to belong to a little old lady, who watches TV a lot and wants a cat on her lap.
He won't be able to live here much longer because I won't be here. I'll be in a rubber room, all dressed up in a straight jacket and Phil will be in the room next to mine.
Send help. Send A little old lady with an empty lap. Come and get Minkey. You'll have to get the key from the neighbors and let yourself in. I won't be here. Just take the cat and go. Call the mental home and tell them it's okay to let me out. In the meantime, I'll be there, all wrapped up, twitching.