Gatsby the Catsby

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Named after a gem in the mines of literature, yesterday was hard for my precious feline. He no longer has any balls. All I kept thinking about was the word “castration”, because that’s essentially what I did to him. Oh, well. I’d rather have a cat, sans testicles than have a cat who is also a kitty daddy.

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About cheekystars123

I write what I know. I don't know a lot. But I know how to put thoughts into words. These are my thoughts; constantly contradicting themselves, swinging between the pendulum of extremes, never censored. I'm not as sane as my friends think I am, but I'm not as psychotic as I convey myself anonymously. So what does that make me? A rare breed? I like to think so. But I'm probably not as interesting as I'd like to believe. Aside from that, I tend to be a sarcastic bitch with rage problems. Don't believe a word I say, I'm probably definitely lying about most of it to make myself seem more interesting.
This entry was posted in Humor, Observations, Pets. Bookmark the permalink.

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