Yes. I have hidden the vet-pack again. Don't try to get the secret location out of me like you did last time, when you dragged your hand on my scratching post and I had to pounce and your fingerlet got hurt. I will not be guilted into revealing its whereabouts, so the only way to take me to see the Blue Dressed Maniacs is by enduring a long, long process involving much paper.
I'm very disappointed in you for trying this stunt again. Last time they did things to my butt, my paw, my throat, and they made me be asleep and cut me in the stomach. Then my blood clotted and burst through the stitches and you took me to see White Dressed Maniacs at one in the morning, which is when I nap. And do I really have to mention the indignity of being given a pink wrapping thing on my paw that is for girl cats?
Honestly, I thought I'd trained you better than this. Your only course of action now is to go through every single brand and type of gushyfudz until I find one I will eat and not throw up. Don't you know you have to work for my love?
I'd better go. I think you're coming back to the electric box.
PS: AHAHA, U WIL NEVAR FIND IT. I AM TEH KINGLY OF HIDERS.