And we think WE have it tough?

Few appreciate the trials of the typical house cat, what with all those lofty expectations and deadlines and such. We humans can't understand the pressures of the Kitty Do list.

Take Zimba-Saurus Rex for example...

According to the feline bylaws to which he must adhere, Zimba is obligated to trip his human ten times per day to meet his quota. He must explore every inch of the house like it's an exciting new territory, as if he hasn't lived at his present domicile for the last eight years. In the course of said exploration, he must push his face through every cobweb he finds, as befits his status of 'permanent kitten.' As required by his local union, Zimba will sit in the sink in anticipation of the faucet being turned on (under the guideline that fresh water is best). Because he doesn't wish to be ousted from his fraternity, Zimba will play with every shoestring, drawstring or baggie tie within the span of his particular universe. Having obtained the moniker of a dinosaur for his feats of great destruction, Zimba must live up to his name by, even when approaching double digit age, decimating everything not nailed down and a handful of things that are.

And, as a survival tactic, he must do all things both dangerous and annoying while appearing to be - and here I quote the manual - too cute to kill. It works.

Because I come home from a looooong day of paid slavery and lo... the lamp has leapt to the floor, the speaker wires have been chewed clean through, the food dish is upended (to the dog's benefit), the pillows lie shredded and every pile of anything is scattered.

At least the cobwebs have been cleared. They all reside on his face. But it's difficult to skin the beast, shove a stick down his throat and rotate him over a fire because self-preservation kicks in and he summons, for want of a better word, cuteness. Behold...