My cat got beat up today.
My poor baby.
He came to me outside my window and stayed in a corner having war flashbacks. I cleaned his wounds and was in a stage of panic ready to beat up the dog who did this.
I hear more hissing and find my skinny cat running back to me.
O.k. Mr. dog, I got you.
There stood behind the fence barking up a storm, the smallest dog I’ve ever seen.
My cat was too fat to run.
You never know how small you really are; you never know how fat you really are either.
Society’s way of telling my cat fat will kill you.
I’m slightly embarrassed of my furry child.