Once upon a time, there was a cat. His name was Binx. He was a good cat that never bothered his mother other than to occasionally meow for food. He came home at sunrise, ate his breakfast, and slept all day. He didn’t bother to wake up, or really do much of anything for that matter, until the sun went down. After sundown, Binx was up and about to run the town for the night.
Bright one morning, Binx had a vet appointment. It was just a routine check up, but Binx didn’t know this. Shoved into a plastic box with only small holes to see out of, Binx feared the worst. Terrified, he vomited profusely in his little carrier on the car ride to the vet.
His owner was mortified when she smelled this putrifying stench. When she (and by she I mean me. Trust me, it was really gross) finally arrived at the vet and opened the box, she was shocked. What appeared to be blood and guts, covered the bottom of his little travel box of doom (I’m pretty sure this is what Binx calls it when I put him in it). Binx’s mother rushed him inside and quickly informed the vet of the most recent and horrifying events.
The vet took the cat and his disgusting carrier to the back to be examined. His mother waited nervously, and when the vet finally appeared, she held her breath. “Is Binx a hunter?” the vet asked.
Hunter was an understatement. Binx was constantly bringing home small, lifeless creatures to leave on the doorstep.
Well, you guessed it. It was guts, just not his own… Binx had vomited mouse and squirrel guts, accompanied with random, unidentified, animal body parts.
The moral of this story? CATS ARE LAZY AND GROSS!
THE END.
And as you can see, he could care less.
Ashley Hay Novels 