Senseless Sunday Sarcasm: Miserable Me, a #Cats Tale



Hello, Humans.  Coon Cat here.  

I’m coming to you live from Podunk, Florida.

Dinner is late…again, so I’ve taken up residence on Mom’s computer until she feeds me.  Why?  It makes her nervous.

You see, she’s a writer.  

Like I care?

I don’t like any of her books.  None of them are about cats.

Mom frightened me earlier today. She climbed on top of the roof to take a picture of Florida in winter from 2 1/2 stories high. 


I was afraid she’d die and no one would feed me.

Dad’s  mean.  He shooed me off the bird feeder.  There I was, quietly waiting for a bird to think I was a log and Dad starts stomping around.  

Poor, miserable me!  I only get 2 cans of food a day.  I have to supplement my diet somehow. 

Why did I have to be rescued by people who live in a dog house?  Why would they think that topping off the dry food when it gets low means anything? 

Dry food is sooo…dog.

Couldn’t someone who hates birds take me in and feed me the 3 cans of food I deserve each day?  

But, alas, my dreams of living in a dog-free zone will never be.  

And I’ll spend the rest of my life enduring the indignity of being forced to share the top of Mom’s printers with my brother.