The Daily Bailey

It seems apparent to me that I have now taken over this blog. It is basically now my blog, since I’m the only one who ever posts. And I should get all of the credit, because I am the man. Isn’t that the way it works in this world? Which is why I am strongly suggesting renaming it. The Daily Bailey. Bailey’s Blog. Meow Memoirs. The New Feline Times. Confessions of a kibble-aholic. Cat Blog. Any of these fine names will do. Anything that is all about me. Everything should really be all about me. I don’t like not being paid attention to. Do you think it’s easy being this cute all of the time? I know I am small, but I should not be overlooked, or ignored, or taken for granted, or pushed aside. Especially not so SHE can take care of HIM. Take care of MEEE! I used to be the man of this house! I don’t care that he “hurt his ankle,” his sad face is not nearly as convincing or utterly adorable as mine. Although that ankle doesn’t look so hot ironman... I hope she doesn’t have to put you to sleep.

HE is getting the king’s treatment. Feet up on the table. Beer. Ice pack. Dinner. Kisses. What happened to you gimpy? Did you trip over one of my cat toys? No? Oh, too bad. Maybe next time. Listen, my paw might not be swollen to 100 times its natural size mr. cankles, but inside... I am in pain. Most likely from witnessing this charade. Hello?! I am over here looking precious on my chair. Where is my compassion? I want dinner (more specifically whatever you are having). I want kisses. I want to go on the table. This is out of control! He wasn’t in the war... He’s just a klutz. I see this game you’re playing male human and I’m onto you. Man up and quit your crying. Stop being a pussy... I am the pussy in this house.