Communicating with my cat is so crazy, it’s like, you watch my back for predators when I sleep. You meow only because you know that I vocalize often, but the words I use are nothing to you unless they’re associated with things relevant to your little baby life (food, for example). You slow blink at me because you feel safe with me. You point your ass at my face, indicating that you trust me to watch your back for predators, because you feel safe with me. You sit in my lap and sleep pressed against my side because you need to warm yourself up, and you trust me to warm you. I know this because I have access to information. If I didn’t, these things would be weird to me. I call you Lulu, but you don’t need a name for me; you have your senses to identify me. You smell me to identify me. You nuzzle me with your head to mark me as family with your scent. We ARE family. You are both the baby I feed and the elderly little lady who watches over me. It’s a very special and pure interspecies bond. I have a concept of “love” that is metaphysical, conceptual; you have an instinctual bond to those that you “trust” to help you survive (and that you, in turn, help to survive). You DO aid my survival on an emotional level that you can’t possibly understand, because you try to aid me on the physical level that comes naturally to you. Who said survival of the fittest has no room for love? We share the pure love of deep friendship because you and I must survive. My creature, Lulu, my best friend. My stinky.
You teach them responsibility by entrusting them with these devices.
You teach them teamwork by taking them away at night and storing them in your room.
My dad kept the computer locked and monitored (and only used when under direct supervision), an intolerable situation to which my little brother and I reacted with gusto. We set up a camera to get the password, coded password guessers, bootcamped a Mac to allow us to use an entirely different system, and figured out various ways to avoid logging internet activity, logins, and even the hidden camera my dad set up. He would discover our new hack and put even more restrictions (he is very computer literate), and we would crack it again. We learned computer security just because my dad didn’t want us to.
I breezed through AP comp sci into a tech field. Ironically, I was introduced to porn because I was looking for another bypass and stumbled into a BDSM site so I can also blame my dad for me being a freaky ho.
Out of all the responses to this post. Yours was my favourite. I cried laughing when I saw the last paragraph
The beginning.
“I think we should switch places. When camp’s over, I leave as you and go back to London and you leave as me and go to California.”
I LITERALLY STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW THEY MADE THIS FILM WITH ONLY ONE LINDSEY LOHAN
Right up there with finding out that Genovia isn’t a real country.
WAIT GENOVIA’S NOT A REAL COUNTRY
I THOUGHT IT WAS IN SWITZERLAND
THATS GENEVA YOU CRUMB
YOU CRUMB
Pieces of Viking pottery with traces of cat and dog paws, seen at the Musée de Normandie in Caen Castle
“So back in the day pets already ruined their owner’s artwork.” - My sis who took the photo
“ruined”? made better
It’s very humanizing to imagine some poor potter in the past screaming “nnnnooooooo bad kitty” somewhere in Scandinavia
If it was ruined, the artisan wouldn’t have baked it.
That’s… that’s a delightful point you just made.
This person chose to bake and keep their cat’s artistic contribution.
Stamps of approval
My mom wants me to start drama
Our Leader. He is us. We are him.
HOW DID YOU GET HANDS HOW DID YOU GET HANDS
HEY HOW DID YOU GET HANDS HOW DID YOU GET HANDS HOW DID YOU GET HANDS HOW DID YOU GET HANDS HOW DID YOU GET HANDS
HOW DID YOU GET HANDS HEY HOW DID YOU GET HANDS
This is the opposite of that one video where a guy walks towards a group of cats wearing a cat mask only for all of them to run away from him.
me as a store owner
is this a real picture omfg???
The picture is real because you can see it with your Eyes