Mom has a cat. An Ocicat.
A dark cat.
His name is Oz.
He used to be a gynecologist or a sadist or something in his last life. For most of last night he slept between my legs and kept pushing on my sore adductor muscles. (I didn't have the heart to kick him away) He also kept blocking my legs and snoring and changing his sleeping position and... uuuh.
When he FINALLY left he did these things:
- woke up mom by walking over her face
- woke me up by tickling my face 3 times and then showing off his ass hole by doing pirouettes in front of my face and tickling me with his tail with every turn
- ate a piece of the flower that I had brought my mom and puked on the floor in her room (she had to get up like a lightning to save a rug by ripping it away from that darn cat)
- took a huge shit in the kitty litter and sprinted around the flat after he was "empty and light" again
- sang "God save the queen" in horrible cat dialect
- ...and finally tried to kill us by being in our way and under out feet when we tried to walk around and find the toilet
Oz is a normal cat. He just does things a bit more Ozzy style...
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