I thought this was a great plan. Because Brandon doesn't really like le kitties. In general, the stance they have toward each other is "Maybe if I ignore you, you'll ignore me," and it usually works - but occasionally, Brandon can no longer handle his annoyance with them, and he'll stomp around the house and chase them under the bed, just to assert his dominance and let them know just who's boss. I watch it all, amused.
But I thought, great! I can finally get Brandon and Hairy to love each other! Maybe if I stop talking dirty to her, Brandon will start composing great and important and super long sonnets to her about his love for her. And I will positively pine for him, seeing this outpouring of affection he has for furry creatures. MY furry creatures. I mean, how could this not be okay, right?!
And I had been holding steady. It was HARD, but I was reigning in my dirty talk for Hairy.
Until last night.
Last night, it just came out. I couldn't help it. I'm wheedling here, but I really couldn't help it.
But I didn't keep my bargain. I mean, at least I didn't say something as outright like, Hey, I wanna show you the pleasure I robbed you of when I spayed you, since I erased any chance that a male cat will de-flower and impregnate you, but still, I SAID IT. I mixed the words "poop" and "preciousness" in one sentence, and I don't think anyone's ever done that before. And I think that can count as "dirty." What do you think?
It's too hard not to talk some dirty love smack with Hairy. It's just too hard.
So Hairy will have to settle for my love, and for these blog posts I write, in exchange for the love sonnets her daddy will never write her. I'm sorry Hairy, I'm sorry, but at least you are a giant sack of precious poop. At least there's that.