So this afternoon the ignorant bipeds say, "Let's go on a nice walk. We'll take Mikey and Guinness." Okay...rewind. Here's what I think of that:
First of all, a nice walk would be me walking wherever I damn well please without being strangled by an ignorant biped. Second of all, if I have to go out with you fools bound and chained, WHY does it have to be with Dumbass? We're talking about a member of the magnificent canine species who hops sideways on all fours when she hears the word "walk." Sideways. If only I had video...
I yawn in your general direction.
The bald lardass biped opts for walking the boardwalk down at the fishing village. The bitch biped opts for handling me. She only weighs about half of me. I might be able to take her, so I head out with a glimmer of hope.
Down at the boardwalk there are zillions of other dogs to growl, snap and bark at. Every time I do that the bipeds let Dumbass jump all over me wagging her tail. "You tell him Guinness! Make him lighten up!" she chirps like a bird with a mouth full of worm barf.
We reach an empty lot, mostly fenced in and the bipeds think it'll be a safe place for us to romp and play off leash for a bit. But what they forgot was that cats, bloody cats, can climb in there. Moments after our arrival I catch a whiff. Mmmmmmm....marshmallow fluff cat....and I was hoping for a snack. I turn on my heels and run hell-bent for leashes after it. Cornered the little bugger. He begs for his life like a sniveling baby. Oo the powah!
I let him live. Call me an old softie, but when it comes to cats I can't help myself. I'm nice.