Now those are some obscure scientist’s life long research thoughts. Research done with data, one on one observation and number crunching. All of which is just wonderful and nice. However, these scientists never owned a cat and does not wish to add personal thoughts.
I am not a scientist. I went to a liberal arts college. I have owned cats (or, I should say, they have owned me) for many, many, years. Here are my thoughts on why kittens and cats bite:
Cats bite us because we are intrusive.
Cats lash out at their one true love, the human, because the shitter is not immaculate.
Cats secretly sharpen their fangs at night…while we are asleep…for the simple reason…they want the upper hand.
Cats lash out when we poke the puppy ( a saying from my house of woes.)
Poking the puppy is a blanket term. To poke the puppy/cat/kitten…
The human witnesses their animal friend, sleeping, snoring, casually chasing a headless chipmunk. The human is so overwhelmed with the feline’s cuteness. So transfixed are the two legged buffoons. So in awe at the one and only chance to ‘spaz’ the cat out…the human lashes out…poking the cat in the belly.
Let us be honest here. Poking the puppy and/or cat is similar to Pavlov’s dog. A piece of sweetness is dangled in front of us. It is furry and purring and being the Cat god they are. Alas, the human will go back every time for a ‘poking’ because the untold results are just too adorable to pass up!
I have had many cats over the years. Each one of them have been fastidious in their…potty routine! I took a survey among the felines that live in our happy abode, current day and the response was the same.
“Momma, that funny looking, motorized, cabinet…scares the shit out of us!”
Perhaps, that is what the product was designed to do!
I am willing to point my one finger of grief at the ‘strange and unusual’ things.
Trolls live under bridges
There are criminally insane persons running around state hospital grounds! Just running loose like squirrels in the spring.
(Wait, that could be true. I am a product of two state hospital patients (one of which lived on the secured psychiatric unit. And, both Ma and Pa were insistent that I did not cut through hospital grounds due to nefarious beings with shackles around their ankles.)
Regardless, there are still many proven, solid, scientific, ideals…that I choose to denounce.
Catholic priest are basically good
Adult men, in boy scout uniforms, are just bonding with small boys when they hold sleepovers on a mountain side
I really can talk to the animals. Particularly, the Dogs. Not the Cats per-say. I used to talk to the Cats but it felt like confession to a deaf ears.
And, presently, another train of thought…I just cannot swallow…
Christian author: Trump is under attack from ‘multidimensional Luciferian advanced beings’
Last week, End Times author Paul McGuire appeared on the Jim Bakker Show and declared that President Trump is currently engulfed in “the greatest spiritual battle in the history of all mankind.” He expanded on his claim on his radio program this Thursday, this time clarifying that the battle is with “advanced beings” who possess “supernatural multidimensional” powers.
I get it. Aren’t we all in the greatest spiritual battle of our lives? Yet, as a not newly released Pagan/Curious Spirit, my waking moments are not filled with ‘let’s go get those evangelicals’ behavior.
One more falsehood, I wish to pursue…
I do not believe in the Burning Bush for the simple reason…
If you or anyone, Moses, Noah, Adam, Eve and/or Ruth (no relation) came across a ‘burning bush’…Smokey would tell us to put the fucker out!
Conversation with Bernie the Cat after him using the ‘box.’ Understand…his box, and my bathroom are housed within the same four walls.
“Oh I can’t take another heartache… Though you say you’re my friend, I’m at my wit’s end”
I had been beside myself…with the aroma…swarming the room.
My eyes all aglow as though, Linda Blair from the Exorcist…
“You say your love is bonafide, but that don’t coincide!!! With the lack of love, impudent affection…with all the things that you do!
And, when I ask you to be nice, Bernie, you say…”
“You’ve gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure. Cruel to be kind. It’s a very good sign when you clean the box. Cruel to be kind…when I walk away from your touch…means that I love you!”
Anguished from the devil’s love on four white paws. Disturbed by the missing access to Lysol…I pouted…
“Well I do my best to understand dear! But you still mystify and I want to know why. I pick your shit up off the ground. Just to have you turn your nose up in the air…and knock me down again and again.”
Disgusted with humans, humanity and closed in places…The ‘Bern’ turned his stinky ass toward me…sashayed out the door and only responded with…
“You’ve gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure. Cruel to be kind! It is a very good sign! Cruel to be kind…means that I love you!”
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts