Les Chats.

Yeah that’s right. Les chats.

That’s plural.

That’s cats.

That’s plural cats.

Henry and Sal.

Who have been renamed Philip and Salbert (like Colbert but Salbert – hold the t ) by my wonderful roomies.

Why the new names? I don’t know, for some reason Andy kept thinking that Henry’s name was Philip.

No, really. Then he started called him “Lip.”

I don’t like cats.

But I don’t like mice. I kind of wish the plural for ‘mouse’ was ‘mouses’. It sounds cuter than ‘mice’ doesn’t it? Mice sounds so…well. It’s the reason we have cats. Les chats.

Plural cats.

I really just wanted ninja cats. Ninja cats that catch mouses.

This girl would love to come hug my cats…and put them in a basket, with bowties.

That’s because she probably saw this video of cats.

I know, how friggin cute is that video?! It makes me almost forget that I don’t like cats…then I saw this video, and I REMEMBERED.

That gives me the heebies jeebies.

Ugh. Les Chats.

Now I have to clean even more. So much sofa vacuuming. Granted it is the one bit of cleaning I can now get my roommates to do with asking. I left for five days, the house was a MESS when I came home, but the sofa? It’d been vacuumed.

When I try to serve food they attack me, and seriously, who enjoys emptying a litter box…or CONSTANTLY vacuuming the area around the litter box because Les Chats can’t keep that stuff inside the litter box.

Still creepier is that fact that my cats come in through my window in the middle of the night.


In our living room is a sliding door that leads to a balcony that stretches past my room – including my one window.

There are no screens on my windows.

So that means.

If the door is open, and my window is open, it’s like a secret passageway into my house.

As I wrote that sentence, that just happened to me, and  Henry Philip just jumped onto my back.

(I’m laying on my bed, on my stomach, writing.)

Imagine that in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping.

I’d scream.

But I live on the 33rd floor so nobody can hear me.

So I just jumped in instead and turned around to see his beady eyes looking at me and attempted to yell at him but cats don’t really give a shit, so in reality I just yelled at the air.


Now I’m officially crazy.

Les chats.


But uh, between you and me. Haven’t seen one damn mouse since we got ’em.


Les Chats.

French Lesson.

Les Chats. I’m not telling you. If you don’t know now, Google it bitch.

I just want to hug all of them….


2 thoughts on “Les Chats.

  1. If they are not catching the mouses that they were contracted to kill,eat or dispose of>Then they are in breech of contract an may be given flying lessons ….from the airport on the 33rd floor

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