Rowdi is snoring loudly on her big doggie pillow. The cats are sleeping. They rest well, knowing that no matter how much the Democrats steal our pet food money to pay for useless social programs that will weaken the nation, I will find some way to feed them.
It depends. If they steal too much of our money, one of them won’t get to eat. And I’m partial to cats. Sorry, Rowdi. You’re a good dog, but the kitties were here first, and I never have to hold their poo with nothing but a plastic bag for protection.
Sarah: if the Democrats steal TOO much of your money, I hope we don’t wind up finding out just how partial to cats you are, but if it does come to that, the Chinese restaurant just down the street from my house seems to have a recipe that involves noodles, celery, and a little soy sauce. At least, it didn’t taste like chicken when I had it, despite what the waiter said.
Hope that helps – and don’t let Frank try to tell you that hitting or kicking them is part of the tenderizing process.
Oh, and – FIRST.
The poo-holding thing is precisely why I’ll never have a dog again, as much as I like them in general.
How old is Rowdi?