You know I detest the crate, and dislike car rides even more. Yet you stuffed me into one and took me for a spin.
So I peed in the crate. You’re welcome.
We went someplace new. Well, maybe I had been there before, but it had been a while since our last “trip”, so it was still new to me. The ladies were friendly, except the first one who stuck something up my backside. W T F? Don’t do that again. Thanks.
Then you shoved me BACK into the crate (gee, thanks), and back into the car again. Did you not get the message the first time?
This time, I pooped in it. I hope you enjoyed the smell all the way home.
But you didn’t let me out of the crate as soon as we got home, why?
You thought it was a great idea to give me a BATH?!
Well, lady, I made sure that you were just as nearly soaked as I was by the end. You’re welcome.
I thought our “fun” was over, but you had one last thing in store for me.
Shooting some icky paste and liquid down my throat. I don’t think it is as palatable as you say the bottle claims. Yuck. What have I ever done to you except warm your lap?
I am going to sit in your office with my back to you while I dry off. I don’t think I want to speak to you for a while. Later, I may cough up a hairball in an inconspicuous place in hopes you step in it. Hmph!