Go Away, Cats

I swear, ever since I’ve publicly admitted to hating cats, they’ve been following me. Watching me. Stalking me. They’re stalking me.

They sit outside of my bedroom door at night and purr the night away. They know what I said about them and they are angry. They are out to get me. Someone make it stop. Calling all cat whisperers. I am soliciting your help.

On the other hand, (which is that I’m not really terrified, just even more annoyed at cats) I sort of feel like Phoebe Buffet. You know? What if one of the cats is my mom and she’s trying to tell me something? Mom, is that you? If you need to tell me something please do it as a human, since like, you are one.

Humans are better than cats. (Most of the time.)