My neighborhood has a lot of stray cats. They’re fucking everywhere. They’re worse than dandelions. And they’re always having kittens. These things must fuck like rabbits. On two separate occasions a stray has given birth to a litter of kittens in our basement window well. It’s disgusting. Disregard the fact that I fucking hate cats and it’s still disgusting. So I’m a little resentful of these dudes in England who get to hang out with wandering ponies instead of a bunch of half-decayed tomcats that somehow are still alive. Plus, ponies apparently party. Mocha (this pony’s name) just came in looking to polish off a few leftover beers instead of letting them go to waste. I appreciate that. Nothing worse than a wasted beer. Plus, Mocha was obviously a tad bit buzzed since it was lured outside by bar snacks. No one eats bar snacks sober. Who wants to reach their hands into a bowl of food that every other drunk in town who takes a piss without washing their hands has? Not sober people. This is just another reason why I think the move I need to make in my life is to Europe. They get to “deal” with pretty chill animals that just want to kick back, lap up some warm beer and have their heads patted. I have to deal with animals that have exposed ribs trying to burrow under my back porch so they can claw their way into my kitchen pantry. I’d rather have a fucking pony parade in my living room than one more stray cat live in my neighborhood.
[h/t Metro]