Impossible to Shake Free

So. Here I am. Am I here? I am here.

See what I did there? You are already raptured with my words and the first line only has 4 separate words and yet..... you are still here too. Or, so I assume.

When I first started on this internet thingy I did not write well. There was much mashing of buttons, a lot of baby talk (I mean, I'm a cat, after all) with sentences on Facebook like, "I liek eeting bugz" and "i love my mom" but like most humans (I must stress the word "MOST") I grew out of it. I'm better and wiser now, though it is still hard to type with no opposable thumbs.

The FB friend list grew, along with the occasional "Ha Ha you're an idiot posting as a cat" which there would be a reply, "haha you're FB friends with a cat, shuddup" or "Newton has more FB friends than you do" but for the most part, it was a nice way of growing into the poet I am now. Then the geniuses who ran FB realized I was under the age of 12, and they shut down my profile.

BUT here I am now. You can never REALLY get rid of me. Like even the finest, most delicate and bothersome of cat hair, I will always be there... impossible to truly, permanently get rid of.