Who's the Pussycat?
 

It’s funny how people still seem to see him as some innocuous little kitten who has to be protected from the dangerous man-eating alley cat. They haven’t felt his claws. Or his bite. He’s definitely a damned tiger. Or, with that fucking mane, maybe a lion.

So when he decides to go to the store at three in the morning for some shit he just has to have for breakfast, it’s not because I think he needs protecting that I go with him.

It’s because I know if I “make” him go alone, he’ll make me fucking suffer for days.
 

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