Craftastrophe » Pet Clothes Are Stoopid

It’s All About Style…

sam {temptingmama} — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 21:24:06 +0000

Doggie style.

I must say, that’s one stylish leisure suit.

What did you think I meant by “doggie style”?

Perverts.

{source}

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Don’t mess with the pussy (cat)

sam {temptingmama} — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 14:35:05 +0000

DAY 752 – My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from shredding the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant and cough it up on the carpeting.

DAY 761 – Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair…must try this on their bed (again).

DAY 762 – Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.

DAY 765 – Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was…Hmmm. Not working according to plan…

DAY 768- I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called “shampoo”. What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth and the tiny bit of flesh under my claws.

DAY 771 – There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call “beer.” More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of “allergies”. Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774 – I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.

Thanks Stump for sending this one in!

{source – Pampered Whiskers}

{source – Cat Diaries}

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Annabell Wondered Why She Never Fit In…

sam {temptingmama} — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 14:31:38 +0000

Poor Annabell was the black sheep of the family. All she wanted was to be like her brothers and sisters but Annabell was very different. She had a tendency to stick out like a sore thumb during everyday scavenging and wasn’t quite sure why.

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Gobble, Gobble!

sam {temptingmama} — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 15:20:46 +0000

Happy Thanksgiving to our dear friends to the south!

May your guts expand with fowl and you fall asleep with your pants undone with friends and family close by.

Eat some pumpkin pie for me – extra whip puhlease!

Now!

On with the fugly turkeys!

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A turkey skating; but it’s not just any turkey – it’s a hand turkey (with what appears to be a bloody hangnail).

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I’m not understanding the appeal of creating turkeys out of hands. I mean, for a school art activity maybe – but stuffing a mitt and calling it a turkey just doesn’t grab me.

Especially when it looks like a duck.

Just sayin’.

:::

Hate when your dog’s mooching for turkey? Sitting at your side just waiting for scraps or even maybe bold enough to grab its own from the counter.

How about making THEM the turkey instead?

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Put the dog in a turkey dress and it will be far too busy plotting your death to get into the turkey dinner you’ve slaved over.

Or? Just give them their own turkey.

{ source }

Oh Tom.

Tom. Tom. Tom.

I think you may be suffering from an identity crisis, because Tom? You have ARMS and LEGS.

A turkey in disgust disguise.

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When Animals Attack

sam {temptingmama} — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 15:57:04 +0000

We got a coat for our pit bull when she was a puppy. What? They have short hair and it’s darn cold in the winter. She even wore booties because the sidewalks were littered – LITTERED! – with horrible chemical laden salt that she would like from her paws. We’ve since stopped using the coat because, well, she’s a priss and won’t walk too long in the winter.

She’s kinda spoiled.

Though, I don’t know that I’d ever consider fleece jammies.

The dog looks scared out of it’s mind.

Like it might poop its pretty brown and pink flowered fleece pajamas.

Oh, if only animals could talk.