I demand to be named Poet Laureate of Lush. Honor my wishes or face the consequences, talentless hacks.
Is this in cat years or human years?
My life story. It would win all the oscars.
She has big mammary glands. I would like some fresh milk now, human.
Why did my poem, 'She Brings me Cream and Rubs my Belly' not win? I demand a recount.
The stupid slave girl brought me cream. She is not as useless as most human. Think I will not scratch her while she sleeps tonight.
Bring me a bowl of cream or I'll start scratching the furniture.
Dawgs are over-rated. That is all.
Cream please, and a plate of tuna before i tear up your pool table, old wrinkled person.
How come they don't have one that smells like tuna?
To save yourself some time, feel free to declare me the winner and send me $200 worth of raw salmon asap.
I have noticed that some people have badges here. Obviously, you've forgotten to give me any. I would like one of each, please.
This is stupid. The best revenge is to destroy everything they own and shit on their pillow.
They are all crap. Until I finish my novel (The Planet of the Cat) and publish it here, nothing is worth reading.
There is no word for 'I love you' in my language. I show my love by allowing you to worship me.
I have heard rumors that people believe the blonde girl writes my masterpieces. I assure you, she is a talent-less hack and incapable of such works of art.