(cont’d from p. 47) against the smooth, curved surface of the unfamiliar location. Abandoning the escape for the moment, Pembroke surveyed the room. He was alone, he concluded — when suddenly he felt ice-cold fingers against his skin!
Water! Pembroke’s heart thundered in his chest as he scrabbled anew at the unyielding metal walls. He’d heard of this place; a chamber of horrors so ghastly, it was spoken of only in awestruck whispers — when spoken of at all.
A door opened and he went still. One of the dungeon acolytes entered, cradling a bottle of amber liquid. At that instant, Pembroke knew what was in store. It would be the worst agony anyone could bear — and live to tell of it. Its name was enough to chill his blood and send daggers of fire up his spine. This was… bathtime.
Photos by Krystin N. from the Bangor Humane Society (more like the Bangor Kitty-Tormenting Society, am I right or am I right?)
Mr. Bill didn’t know what was more disconcerting – the fact that Gumby had turned on him so horribly, or the realization that Gumby’s waxer really had his work cut out for him.
Mr. Bill should say goodbye to that appendix, Rebekah F.
When Luigi agreed to testify against Fat Tabby, he incorrectly assumed his new identity would be tougher to crack.
Not to mention the fact that his new location was little more than a hammock.
Always ratting out the bad guys, Tara G.
He’s been fed, so he most likely won’t randomly attack. Then again, this one’s completely unpredictable; so please proceed with caution because “Jakey” La Motta‘s a real beast.
I hope you have body armor, Daniel S.
You mean to tell me that you’re not going to punish that peeg who dropped the water balloon on me? Unacceptable!
Someone’s wearing some wet cranky pants, Josh N.
Forget the Twins, this ghastly beast will kill you softly.
Heeeeeere’s Feline, Ane B.
Ah, thank you for meeting me at my super-secret bunker hidden away in a magical land called Eyekeeah. May I offer you a White Russian while I detail my plan to take over the world?
Muahahahahaha, Loolee.
Listen man, I ain’t no slow loris, so don’t do anything you’ll regret; I don’t wanna have to introduce your face to my pink pads.
Do it, Jenn C. And send video.
Apparently Ginge never learned the most important lesson from “A Christmas Story”:
“I weewy, weewy wish you had wahned me about dis befuhand.“
It’s all in Good Humor, Maria F.
[To a very few folks out there: Stand down, people. Please. We do understand chocolate isn't pet food. This kitten is taking small licks of the ice cream, not mawing a pound of baker's semi-sweet. And to the rest of you, carry on. 
- Ed.]
“(Oh boy! Look at this big stick that I am carrying all by myself like a good puppy! I cannot wait to burst through my dog door and proudly display it to the food lady!)”
One of the kute kanines under the konsiderate kare of Kaitlyn K.
