Look at her. She grew up a feral on the mean cold streets of Minnesota. She hunted for her food. She survived. She had kittens and kept them alive.
And what does this hunter, this natural predator do when there’s a mouse in my dining room?
Fucking walk into the kitchen to take a nap on the counter.
I know she saw the mouse. I know she can hunt.
But Ms Ex Feral knows that she’s gonna get half a can of wet food in half an hour no matter what she does so she’s gonna skip hunting and save her calories for being just as round and plush as she can be, just because she knows she can get away with it because she’s a perfect little adorable princess with a perfect little face and widdle calico toe beans and wait I forget where I was going with this










