I bought Shane a whopping $10 worth of cat toys today. Not to be all Andy Rooney about it, but those things are not cheap, have you noticed? The loot wound up being six small catnip mice, four jingly balls (save it, Auguste), and one larger faux-fur mouse with a little bell on its tail, which I thought was so cool because it's just the way mice are found in nature.
I drew the line at paying $0.99 for crinkled-up wad of wrapping paper, though. I don't think I want to know who buys those. And here is where I suddenly realize that having said that, I have guaranteed myself at least one hurt-feelinged comment along the lines of "But, I bought the crinkled-up wad of wrapping paper for my Snookums, because [three paragraphs of apology, justification, and explanation]." If we could just sort of skip that comment, that would be great, and remember: No one can make you feel inferior without your consent, least of all some chubby-assed recluse posting on the internet, for crying out loud.
Where was I before I started yelling at everybody?
Oh, right: Cat toys. Well, I put away most of them in the little cat toy bin and a couple of them I tossed to Shane.
And Shane was very excited about having new toys. He played with them very happily for approximately seven minutes.
Now he's back to knocking around a pistachio. Another damn pistachio.
1. I am tired of stepping on pistachios in my slippers in the mornings. They hurt.
2. I am tired of Shane losing pistachios under the refrigerator and then looking at me like that's my fault.
3. When's the last time I spent $10 on toys for me, huh? Answer me that, Shane.
Next time I'm NOT getting a kitten. Next time I am getting a nice puppy, or maybe a cockatoo, or perhaps some fish. You never see fish looking at you like, "This castle sucks, man. You got any pistachios?"