I’m Leaving It To the Butcher

The orange cat came home covered in burrs.  I mean, like he’s wearing a little burr jacket.  I tried to pick them off, but he’s having none of it.

Fine, orange cat.  Fine.

Lay around all day in burrs.  I’m letting the Butcher deal with you.

Wait.  Or will he lie around all day in burrs?  Damn you, orange cat, damn you and your grammar confounding problems.

2 thoughts on “I’m Leaving It To the Butcher

  1. My black cat (he’s actually black and not African-American) did that a few weeks ago. He escaped through an open door without me knowing, and showed up seven hours later wet (it thunderstormed) and COVERED in burrs. There were so many that I gave up trying to pick them out and just took scissors and CUT them out. He’s had these sad bald patches all over, but I kinda liked doing it… it brought that cocky bastard down a bit. He was totally humiliated and would send me looks like, “don’t look at me like this! I’m hideous!”

    The lil shit is still trying to escape.

  2. I called the Butcher all in a panic about the burrs and he was totally calm about it. Apparently this has been an ongoing thing, but just the first time the orange cat has come to me like it’s my problem.

    Maybe a few bald patches would keep him from going back to wherever he’s picking them up.

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