29 August 2012

*Facepalm*

So, I've got two cats: TyGrr and Sprocket. They're sisters and more often than not are fierce cuddle monsters. TyGrr tells me when it's time to go to bed and Sprocket wakes me up. My cats are damn cute and good at what they do.

Take Sprocket for example. She's agoddamndorable and has a very loud purr that sounds more like pigs grunting than a tiny cat. She is usually found curled up in as tight a ball as she can muster in the cat-tree, my daughter's room or on my bed. Even as I type this she is on my lap purring away, being all soft and sweet.

She's a cat.

However....

...if there are black sandals around...


SHE IS FEARSOME CREATURE FROM THE BLACKEST DEPTHS OF HELL COME TO SEEK THE SCREAMS AND REVEL IN THE TORMENT OF THOSE THAT WOULD BIND KITTY-MOMMY'S FEET!

Not my sneakers. Not my workout shoes. Not my husbands shoes, nor my daughter's flip-flips. Just MY black wedge sandals.

She ravaged them. Bite marks, more holes than Tampa's strip clubs and a few chunks taken out. Seriously, my cat has a mad-on for black sandals. It didn't end there, though. I'd catch her with one in her mouth, walking across the room with it as if to take it to her lair wherein she would mete out certain doom and despair. Multiple times.

Those sandals died. I should've gotten a picture for posterity, but it was too gruesome, really. So I tossed them and bought new ones last week.

That same night, I caught her walking across the room with one in her mouth. To keep my cat from mauling my shoes I have to put said shoes in a drawer.

Yeah. Apparently, this is how Sprocket sees herself: 

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