Recently, Boo Boo Kitty had a sit-down with us, where he finally let the cat out of the bag on many of the things that people have been asking about.
Sources who were present at the sit-down, who begged us like dogs to not be named due to the sensitive nature of the discussions, report the meeting was a raucous occasion, with copious amounts of cat nip, cigars, water, and Scotch consumed by all.
Here are some excerpts from the sit-down with Boo Boo Kitty:
I was born on a farm.
You can take the cat out of the yard, but you can’t take the yard out of the cat.
I weigh 35 pounds and live for dinnertime. They need to stop worrying that I’ll go all feral on them when they let me out in the yard.
That silly perimeter fence was not necessary. Just because the dogs can’t listen to instructions doesn’t mean I need to be fenced in. They’re just dogs – what do you expect?
You mean, I have to walk back inside too? No, that’s just…WRONG. Carry me home!
I get along best with humans who understand my philosophy in life: “You scratch my back, and I’ll purr while you do it.”
But don’t call me over by saying “here kitty kitty” like you’re summoning me like I’m a dog or something.
They gave me two small food bowls instead of one big one, trying to trick me into thinking I was devouring a feast so I’d stop meowing for more. Suffer the fools gladly, I say, for they are only human, and therefore don’t know any better.
Fortunately, Jasper throws food down to me from that bowl they put up on the desk that I can’t reach. Jerks.
Their nephew amuses himself by pointing to the word Meow on my bag of Meow Mix® and asking me to read it out loud. OF COURSE I know what it says. I’m not stupid; I’m a cat! Me saying “Meow” is like a game show announcer introducing today’s contestants before the host walks out on stage.
It was always “A NEW CAR!” Never “A NEW SCRATCHING POST!” or “A NEW PILLOW!”
It figures, though, the guy’s last name is Barker.
He’s the same guy who urges humans to control my population, then blathers something about pets, David Spade, and Newt Gingrich. I never understood how those three fit together.
I’ve always looked up to Garfield. Or, rather, he’s looked up to me. I'm taller.
It’s true. I used to get in trouble with the big dogs at work for playing with the mouse too much instead of typing. It didn’t phase me one bit, I just kept on pawing away at what I was doing.
Just because I’m bigger than a watermelon, the humans who live here think I won’t land on all fours when they get me to jump off my couch and chase the laser pointer beam across their floor.
I play their silly game, even though I’d rather be out chasing tail. Oh, the things a cat must endure.
Seeing as I am almost 80 years old, though, I guess I should be happy to be chasing anything at all!
When the humans are away, the cats will play.
When the humans are away, they better get the hell back here before dinner. My food bowl is empty! I’m not playing this game anymore!
Time for a little cat nap; I’m tired from all that caterwauling that kept me up last night.
I was born on a farm. 
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