Guest Blogger: Winky the Cat

Dear Human Housemates,
Listen, I know Biff the Bulldog was young when you brought him home.  I'm sure you expected him to outgrow his shortcomings.  Yet, five years later, we still tolerate the presence of a creature who drinks from the toilet, can't clean himself, can't use a litter box, and drools.  A pathetic dolt who fears the mailman yet thinks garbage is something to roll in.  He can't catch a mouse, he can't climb, he can't sharpen his claws, and when he sleeps his tongue hangs out.
Biff belongs in a dog pound.
You can pat him on the head and call him "good boy" all you want,  but let's face facts.  He's an imbecile.  At the pound he'll be happy because he'll be around others like him.   I know it's not "politically correct" to say Biff is inferior, but I tell it like it is.  He's in idiot who chases tennis balls and chews rawhide scraps.  You can't take him outside without a leash.  Why are we pretending nothing is WRONG with him!?
Take him to the pound.  Do it for  yourself.  Do it for Biff.
You know it's the right thing to do.