Frustration

I gathered up the weiner dog and drove us both to the nearest PetsMart this morning, where I purchased a new toy and collar for her and scratching thingies for the kitten. That little beastie will not rend a 2,000 dollar chair; I don’t care how cute she is. She could wear gold nipple rings and dance the hula; she would never be cute enough or worth enough.

She’s not mine, you see. I’m not going to have her declawed; she does not belong to me. Well, neither do I possess enough funds to throw around on things like ripping cat’s claws from their hands. If her ‘mommy’ wants to do it, fine. I’m in. I’ll even drive her to the damn vet.
Not fucking paying for it.

The 29 year old cat mommy is a different story. For now.