Pawpurrazzi

Smitty, Mom's taking pictures of us again.

I know, Sadie. It happens whenever she doesn't have anything else to purrattle on about on her blog.

It's gotten so bad, a guy can't even enjoy his morning cup of pawffee.

I know, Smitty. That's just plain barbaric.

And, furrankly, nothing is sacred.

It's impawssible to even take care of your purrsonal hygiene without her snip-snapping away.

And she's just like Santa Paws. She knows when you've been sleeping.

She knows when you're awake.

You can even shield your face to purrtect your purrivacy, but it doesn't matter.

Yes, I know, Smitty. And then she posts this stuff online and shares our purrsonal infurmation with the whole world. 

And have you read that stuff about Cambridge Pawnalytica on Facebook? We should lodge a purrtest!

I even tried turning on my lasers...thinking I could scare her with my she-devil purrsona...but no dice.

And don't you hate it when she gets all up-close and purrsonal?

Do you mind? I haven't even had a chance to brush my teeth or comb my whiskers.

And have you noticed, Smitty? You can run, but you can't hide.

I know, Sadie. I wonder if it would help to join the Screen Actors Guild or something like that.

Pawssibly, we could at least get some compurrnsation for our screen time.

Because, to tell you the truth, I'm just here for the kitty treats. I didn't sign up for the rest of this invasion into my purrivacy.

I think there's only one thing we can do about this, Sadie. Just turn tail and walk away.

Let's put an end to this.