So I’ve pretty well gone on record about the fact that I hate geese. I don’t need to re-live that, do I? We all get it. Oliver and I are particularly opposed to those flying death-traps. But, don’t believe that we limit our animal hatred to geese.
Cats. Cats suck pretty bad. Where to begin? They can’t poop properly. Poop should be a solid. Seriously. They shed more than Oliver does, and that is saying something. Cats smell bad. Like rotting milk. They contributed to a spectacularly annoying musical. I have no interest in watching cat-people sing.
Cats have one redeeming feature. They did provide the inspiration for ThunderCats… HOOOOOOOO! And if you are a child of the 80’s and you didn’t enjoy ThunderCats, then I don’t want to know you. But all of the good that ThunderCats did for cats as a whole, my next complaint ends:
When cats look at me, I can see inside their brain, and they are all thinking the same thing… “If I were bigger, I would eat you.” Not only are they thinking that, but they are PISSED that they can’t eat me. Like, they really wish that I would fall into a coma or something so that they could take a whack at me. Cats are predators and only partially domesticated. They want me for dinner, or a lite snack. I could accept their mutant defecations, I could live with Andrew Lloyd Weber, and I could look past all the excess hair that becomes detached for no reason. But wanting to eat me is a deal-breaker for me.
They have facial hair, so I don’t try to fight them. But I will not go so far as to like a cat. We can peaceably co-exist, so long as they adhere to my “Don’t try to eat me” rules. But I will harbor a distrust and distaste in my heart until the day either all the cats are dead, or my face has been eaten off.