Zest fully clean

One of the benefits of being really obese and lethargic is no one really much expects you to clean yourself. You've got like a lifetime "Get out of jail free" card for smelling like your litterbox. It's hard to lick yourself when you can only move your head in a six inch radius.

Now that I'm skinny, I don't have that excuse. I still generally smell like a cross between Tidy Cats, baking soda, and excrement. It doens't bother me any, but my owners don't like it. Stephanie says I can't sleep in the bed because I'll track kitty litter onto the sheets and leave my dander everywhere.

I say deal with it, toots. You're the human.

But anyways, apparently this past weekend I was a little more ripe than usual, because I was given a bath. Actually it was more like a car wash. I was thrown into the bathrub, Suave for Men applied to my clumpy fur, and held under the water.

I really thought I was going to die.

I saw my whole life flashing before my eyes. Well, that's not true because I had water in my eyes and couldn't see much.

I looked back at my whole existence. Over 12 years. All of it lying motionary, except to eat and void.

It was glorious.

And everybody was Kung Fu fighting

Many people don't realize just how complex of a cat I am. They just see a cherubic slightly obese old cat sitting on the couch placidly. But there's far more to me than they think.

My character has more depth than Lake Superior. That's a pretty deep lake, just ask Stephanie. I've got more history than the Domesday Book.

When I'm lounging around idly, I'm actually reliving my many memories from my early days. Back before I was the proud and self-actualized creature you see now. Back when I was an alley cat just scratching to make his place in the world, or litter box.

I was born during the Clinton years, and I subscribe to many of the values that were prevalent during his administration. I ate until I was full then ate some more, attempted to mate with as many females as possible until I got cut (oh yes, I was quite a man whore) and even dabbled in more catnip than was healthy. Just ask me about the three day purr binge I went off on after being given a Puss n Boots catnip-filled mouse toy. It was cosmic.

My youthful excesses eventually caught up with me. My old owners ditched my sorry ass off at the Humane Society when I grew so bulbous that I couldn't lie on my back and turn over. So there I sat, in a small cage surrounded by more sleek and attractive kitties, when I saw my current and last (as if anyone would take an ugly fella like me in again) owner.

But that's another story, and we have much time to tell it.