Cats and Brooms

Here are the cats, especially the orange one, when I take out the broom for sweeping:



Honestly, it's as if I beat them on a regular basis with sticks. Perhaps they were wounded in the womb (<-- for fun, pronounce the B on the end). Perhaps their mothers worked in broom sweatshops and their only meals were the mice and cockroaches they could wrestle from the straw of cruel, fat, sweaty sweatshop owners' brooms when they were being chased away but GODDAMN it they were going to feed the kittens they were carrying inside their bellies. They were determined to MAKE it.
taking a bow <-------------------