Cletus feels like Mr.McScreamy today… and most days when she’s at work. Actually, I want to buy Mr.McScreamy so he can drown out my coworker’s loud, obnoxious talking about inappropriate things.
We can’t get any more pets because we’re not responsible enough, so instead on weekends we go to shelters or pet stores to snuggle with the animals that no one else wants to snuggle with, like weird-looking dogs or cats who are missing limbs. Even the weirdest animals eventually find a home but I’m not so sure about this one:
That is a parrot screaming at the top of his lungs. There was a sign on his cage that said “See pet counselor for assistance” and I thought it was good that this bird had a counselor because it seemed like he was in real need of therapy.
I waved a clerk over and I was like, “Hey. I think your bird is dying” and he said, “No. He just does that for attention,” as if it was the 80,000th time he’d had to explain that. And it probably was because a few minutes later another couple was like…
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