I was ready to sentence the fuckin' cat to capital punishment today. Lethal injection. Don't be too hard on me. I'd pay the $65 the vet charges rather than take her our city's hell-hole of an animal shelter (contradiction in terms - Google our Memphis facility if you need a reason to join PETA). But on the bright side, I hear they employ mostly felons who are starting over. And they get the great fringe of supplementing their meager wages with proceeds from the sale of stray pit bulls to miscreants who need a steady supply of that commodity.
Wow, that whole paragraph must be confusing. Maybe I shouldn't tell you that the only thing that stopped me from toting that little feline bitch to her death was that the pet carrier is in the attic of my rental house. If she didn't get so nervous in the car that she pees whenever we go to the vet, I'd probably have thrown her in the backseat, sans carrier. You cannot get rid of the odor of cat urine. See many posts re stinky chair. Also, I knew I'd regret it tomorrow. Or at least feel guilty.
Gotta get some sleep tonight so I'll be normal tomorrow.
But first, I'm gonna compose another blog post about the son of a bitch I dealt with today. Luckily for him, I was too stunned to react - he was beyond the pale, even for a wet-behind-the-ears salesman. I have a feeling he won't have a perfect day tomorrow...
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