Peepee Stink Feet

I was sitting on the living room floor this morning, drinking my coffee and watching Melissa & Joey on my DVR (because that show is Ah-dorable) when Bill came over and stared at me.

Uh oh. This could anything. Did you poop on the floor? Do you need some more food? Is Captain trapped in the dryer (because that’s my new fear, now that I know he knows the warm snuggle machine exists)? Or is this some sort of sort of power play from the king of LivingroomFloorLand in an attempt to usurp my power over the InFrontOfTheCouch Region of MyHouseadonia?

But instead of crying and pawing, he hopped on on my lap, paws on my shoulders and snuggled my face. Awwwwww!

Super cute, right?!

WRONG!

Peepee stink feet just rubbed his delightful odor all over my clean shirt to make absolutely certain I knew it was time to clean the litter box.

Ugh, peepee stink feet are the WORST! Almost as bad as dingleball bottom. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.

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