Goes from 22 hours of happy-go-lucky, kittenish sleep per day to 21 hours of restless, fitful sleep per day.
All he wants to do is watch "Catlock."
Tries to cash in her 8th life insurance policy for a kilo of catnip.
Last year: Went a-courtin' carrying a "pencil full o' lead."
This year: Goes a-courtin' carrying a 9 Lives tuna casserole.
Bitches non-stop about the "bankrupt moral values of kittens these days."
Trades in his Whiskas for prune-flavored Whippasnappas.
"You call this catnip? Hell, I remember back in the '80s, I once scored some Meowie Wowie that would knock your friggin' claws off..."
Instead of shredding your drapes, she sub-contracts the job.
Writes "Put me to sleep" in its litter box with pee.
When you strap a piece of buttered toast to her back and drop her, she lands on her hip.
Stops leaving dead mice on doormats; starts leaving bingo cards.
Spends all day on the front porch, yelling at the squirrels to get the hell out of his yard.
Occasionally forgets to ignore you.
Instead of swaggering up to you and dropping dead mice at your feet, he drives up in his Rascal and pulls them out of the saddlebag.
Has to drink a whole bottle of Rogaine just to cough up one hairball.
and the Number 1 Sign Your Cat is Getting Old...
While his younger friends are out chasing mice, he claims a moral victory in catching the elusive dust bunny.