so i've been goin', regular. normally, i wait a few days, run into the living room, mew, and pass a giant load. things been different though and i'm not sure why. i find myself wandering into the crate and scratchin' the walls and the next thing you know, i'm regular. four days it's been and each day my poops are lifted square out of the box before i can say visual cortex. she's keeping it comfortable in there. nice ambiance. and she's keeping the water flowing and the food at bay.
she's still feedin me. no care packages please. i don't need no tiny cheese wrapped in wax. it's just she feeds me less, more often. i like it. i feel young again...and i'm cuttin' up like you wouldn't believe. I run rampant during the night and she just takes it, sleeps like a baby, knowing that she's not gonna step on a turd during a midnight snack attack.
i feel a little weird inside about all this. but good. saintly even. st. blindy. patron saint of proper poop dropping. it has a ring to it. it do.
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