Are you running some kind of luxury resort for every flea-bitten parasite that trips across my doorstep? What's that dog eating? A steak?
These are my friends.
Must be costing a fortune. I can't believe I worked 47 years just to shell out for every mangy cat and dog that's hungry enough to be your friend just because you feed it!
They keep me company. They're all I've got.
Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? All right, so I've been a little busy the last 47 years. I just didn't have time to sit and gab with you night and day. I had a living to earn.
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