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The bird of Hermes is my game.
Eating its wings because I maim.
Why is it the cats walk into the room, lick their buttholes, look straight into my eyes, then walk out of the room. What are they trying to tell me
Cats exist entirely inside their own universe. Merely visibly cohabitating in ours as a one-off domesticated chimera from a larger lineage - sentinels of themselves, holders of cat knowledge, and sources of allergy. I guess it is because we are on their terms for answers of why. And why not – we have the 'nip!
Me too!
Then the dark Lord can clean his litter box
And not barf on the carpet, please.
… and remove his holy incense?
