Pest Control = Human Control

Mom came home for lunch Wednesday because the Pest Control people were going to spray our apartment, and she was afraid they would let me out and/or hurt me. Well, she should have been more worried about them.

As she drove up and got out of her car, she saw the pest control guy sprinting down her stairs and out the door. She asked him what the hurry was, and he explained how her VICIOUS BEASTIE of a cat bit him on the ankle, after going into Crazed Halloween Kitty mode. He looked pretty scared as he was dashing out the door. With my taste for human blood satiated (am I spelling that right?), Mom found me curled up in a little ball on the couch, purring contentedly and licking the blood from my enormous fangs of death.

Moving along, last night Mom got out of the shower to find a pooplette on her bathmat again. I know she's probably too smart (snicker) to fall for that again, but I figured I'd try. This morning, she left the toilet lid up and caught me drinking out of the loo again. I don't know why toilet water tastes better than that from the sink, but it does.

Mom is still cheating on me with that fat lump of cat over at J's. I swear, she's such a sucker for cute guys and their sweet, fat little kitties. Bleah.