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But, HOW, Pete? Was it Cancer Kitty?

The chocolate reference was ALL Ds, bless his concupiscent little heart.

Besides, despite Lovely Jodi's good intentions, I can only aspire to ONE out of her three ambitions she lists (the third, OBVIOUSLY, and I’m afraid I must disagree with the second, anyway).

Kate's ruined my day. It remains to be seen whether she has also ruined my life.

I really want to like gourmet chocolate, but I just can't bring myself to. I always think to myself "I'm enjoying this, but am I £4.95 enjoying it?"

(note to Americans: that's about $10.04 in today's money. $10.20 in tomorrow's. $10.50 in Monday's. Hohoho. Can't beat a good "strong pound" joke. Ds might want to give a bald pussy a strong pounding now.)

Noticing that Jodi seems to think Kate is some type of gourmet chocolate bar, I skip the obligatory, 'melts in your mouth but not in your hands' reference and wonder what any of this has to do with the forlorn shorn feline in yon window?

(Runs off skipping and singing, 'How much is that pussy in the window? The one that ain't got any hair?' mainly because I want to beat the bald pussy remarks into the ground like so many peanut shells outside of Yankee Stadium after a matinee doubleheader.)

Kate, my sweet. You can never be too:
1. Rich
2. Thin
3. Dark

P.S. I would add The Smiths to that soundtrack. Dark in a festive way.

God - "Buck-toothed girl in Luxembourg..." Brilliant.

Ds, I would PAY GREAT SUMS OF MONEY IN SMALL CASH BILLS (more mysterious - sexy?) to read such a poem - or, for that matter, a short film in which we see you write it.

You evidently already have the mix tape for the soundtrack.

*Puts on a little Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Rob Zombie mix tape and writes Kate a love poem about death and the single pussy.*

Hmm. Too dark?

Take another look, cynics and scoffers.

This poor feline is dying of multi-system, end-stage cancer and is feeling alone – so very alone. He’s just hoping to see a friendly face – maybe even a fellow being of the cat persuasion; someone who might understand.

He was the “kids’” cat, and as the kids left for school three or so years ago, “That Lady” simply provides food and only the most basic of necessities. If he happens to get underfoot, she hurls abuse at him, calling him, “That goddam CAT!” He’s not sure she even remembers his actual name. He’s even beginning to forget it as the tumors cloud his brain. His name is Christopher Robbins.

That Lady, of course, hasn’t even noticed that he’s not well. Even if she did, she probably wouldn’t afford him a dignified assisted death. No one is there to take Christopher Robbins to the vet, where he might meet a swift and painless end while someone holds him close and tells him that everything will be okay.

Instead, Christopher Robbins will be found in solitary rigor, having died a forsaken quietus under that bed with the black iron headboard.

So clever readers, play your little “caption” game. I have one to submit: “Portrait of enduring solitude. DEAD, DEAD, DEAD.”

OK. Well SOMEONE has to go there... so it might as well be me. (Sorry, Thomas.)

"When my boyfriend said he liked bald pussy, this is NOT the kinky fetish I'd envisioned."

I have x-ray vision and can see your underpants

Eval Kittee haz LAZAR BEEM EYES 4 KILLING!!

How about "WARNING: Trespassers will be shorn."

Dearest Pete: People are certainly welcome to submit captions, if they please! I know that's all the rage among bloggy types. I don't know if I can call it a contest, though, since there won't be prizes or public presentations of medals where the winners will be required to stand on blocks. Also, there are rules and regulations to be followed when calling something a "contest", and you know I have a problem with authority. So, having said all that ... have at it!

Well, perhaps this BLOOOOOG post should take the form of a caption contest then.

Bonus points for anyone who submits their entry in the "lol" style du jour?

It's not necessary to read the sticker. I don't even know what it says. All that matters is the word WARNING. With that cat's amber stare, you'd heed ANYTHING he had to warn you about -- or else!

I can't quite read the sticker - transcription please?

Shriek!!!!! Thanks a lot, J. Now I'll have hideous nightmares about Mr. Toonces with the glowing red eyeballs.