Madeline, after trying to train Beans to play the piano, said, "Beans isn't as smart as I thought she was. She only looks smart." Maddie said it in complete seriousness. I've been chuckling over it all day.
Folks, no matter how intelligent your cat looks, it's still dumb. It gots a brain the size of a circus peanut.
Now this is a brilliant looking cat, but no matter. She's still a doofus:
And I'm still too sexy for you, Beans. No matter how many accessories you wear.
How the Hell does one train a cat to play the piano??
"Finally, for your rather strange idea that miracles are somehow linked to the amount of gay sexual gratification that is taking place would require that primitive Christianity was launched by gay sex, would it not?"
She put cat treats on the piano keys and when Beans retrieved them, she pressed the keys with her paws. But when there were no treats on the keys, Beans wouldn't play the piano. She just doesn't have the ears for it, I suppose.
We always sing, "Beans Beans the musical cat...." (I'll spare you the rest of the song!) But so far, she's not very musical at all. Maybe Beans will have better luck with the guitar?
(Nevo, Jan 23) And the Melchizedek Priesthood may not have been restored until the summer of 1830, several months after the organization of the Church.
harmony wrote:Sorry, KA. That cat just looks pissed to me.
HA! That's because she IS pissed. That's why it's so funny to me that Madeline thought she looked smart. I've never seen a cat that looks smart, lol!
Poor Beans. If you were her you'd be pissed, too. She was decorated like a Christmas present because she spent the whole month of December under the Christmas tree. The girls kept putting bows on her. And hair scrunchy necklaces. She's worn doll clothes and been pushed around in doll buggies. She's been dressed up as a tiny, furry devil for Halloween. The indignities she has suffered would make any cat continually pissed.
And I haven't even gotten started on Daisy. (The Reindog.)
"Finally, for your rather strange idea that miracles are somehow linked to the amount of gay sexual gratification that is taking place would require that primitive Christianity was launched by gay sex, would it not?"
Dr. Shades wrote:Is Madeline going to train Tigger next?
I told Tarzan, Evil T, T-evil, T-mancat, the most baddest, meanest, biting-ist cat ever to exist, that you called him Tigger. He said he's gonna open a can of Whiskas Seafood Bounty whoop-ass on your right forearm.
And no. No one even remotely in his or her right mind would attempt to train Tarzan to do anything. There's a reason he's not forced to wear Christmas bows on his head!
KimberlyAnn wrote:I told Tarzan, Evil T, T-evil, T-mancat, the most baddest, meanest, biting-ist cat ever to exist, that you called him Tigger.
Well, at least I got the "T" part right.
He said he's gonna open a can of Whiskas Seafood Bounty whoop-ass on your right forearm.
Tell him he's too late; my own cat, Kiki, does precisely that on a regular basis.
"Finally, for your rather strange idea that miracles are somehow linked to the amount of gay sexual gratification that is taking place would require that primitive Christianity was launched by gay sex, would it not?"
When I lived in Japan I found a stray tabby kitten. I fell in love with him! He was so precious. I begged my father to let me to keep him and my father with a stern disapproving scowl made it clear I was not going to keep that kitten in a home where there were tatami mats and rice paper doors. It broke my heart. I sat with the little kitten on the front step of my home for hours, singing to my kitten, cuddling my kitten, stroking my kitten with my lips all over his little kitty face.
The sun went down and I watched as I knew I'd have to let my kitty go. Finally my father walked out and announced, "keep the damn cat, we'll declaw it." Hurrah! Before Toda was declawed he enjoyed using me as a scratching post. I loved him anyway! He tore up my arms, attacked my feet while I slept, would stare at me while I was sleeping, and I just loved him still. He didn't know any better!
Now, I have Darby and Crash (yes, named for The Germs frontman) and they know better than to scratch me. Yet, if they do, I just know to stroke them gently and eventually they'll be purring.
