My Cat “Paid Me a Visit” Last Night….and Brought His Complaints
Just as my head hit the pillow, I heard “we gotta talk” in a Tony Soprano accent. Didn’t sound exactly like my wife…….but it was close. Who could it be?
I turned the light on and there he was: my 4-month old cat. But not in normal dimension; he was larger than me and standing on hind legs, wearing chains around his neck. He had two similar feline sidekicks.
“Sorry to disturb your sleep but I got some bones to pick with you and as you’re running around like an idiot all day long, I figured now is the best time. Got a problem with that?”
“No, of course not,” I answered, somewhat taken aback.
“Good. Now for starters, you wanna cut my whats off??? Have you really thought about this? Better yet, have you thought how you would deal with the prospect of such? I hear you bellyaching with the Mrs. about the price of $160 but I can tell you, my concerns run a bit deeper and yours would too if it was gonna happen to you. I think you should re-think this thing and if need be, put it in female anatomical terms that your wife can understand, to bring the point home. You with me?”
“Now, about the chow, how would you like tooth-breaking hard food that smells like 4-day old roadkill in a food dish that has remnants of a week’s worth of tooth-breaking hard food that smells like 4-day old roadkill encrusted on it? Given that you spare no expense when it comes to feeding your pie-hole, I think the answer is pretty obvious. And worst of all, you begrudge me even that! What’s the problem? I’m clearly not cutting into your food budget. Lighten up and let me eat, Tubby.”
“While we’re on the subject of your food intake, would you please include me on the warning distribution list when you are about to take a bath? I agree with the wife that seeing you in the buff is not the most appetizing experience. Yeh, you think that it is just a coincidence that I have hairball attacks every time I have the lousy timing of being in the bathroom when you’re disrobing. Think again, Jack LaLanne. I’ve lost count of your folds, in part because nausea always takes over.”
I started nodding off and his colleague gently slapped me on the face; “wake up, I’m not finished!” my cat yelled.
“Now, as you can tell, I have a sense of humor as good as the next cat’s. But when I hear you joke that you want to add excitement to my life by putting me in a miniature hang-glider and take me to Mt. McKinley, let’s just say that I lose my ability to laugh. Ditto to your suggestion of playing “wheel-barrow” with me.”
“Speaking of excitement, let’s talk about your 7-year old son. I love the nipper, really do. But if he pulls my tail one more time, I’m drawing blood. If I hear you rationalize that ‘boys will be boys,’ I’m gonna disembowel you. Are we clear?”
“The litter box. Need I say more? Yeh, yeh, who in their right mind wants to change it? But a ‘thankless job’? Hardly. Every time I step into a fresh batch of Tidy Cats I profusely thank you, Purina, the good lord, President Obama and whoever invented kitty litter. So don’t wait until I’m climbing a veritable Mt. Everest of cat dung before you clean such hallowed ground. Would you wait several days to flush your toilet? On second thought, don’t answer that. I may not like the answer.”
“Why do you question my intelligence? ‘Just a dumb cat,’ you say? Who’s the one running around for the family like a maniac and constantly getting the verbal and emotional rolling pin over the head from such ‘loved ones’ versus who’s always lounging comfortably somewhere in the house, rent-free, except when fleeing your son? Maybe the ‘dumb cat’ is smarter than you realize. Think about it, Einstein. When you come to your senses and give me my due, I’ll tell you of some good hiding places, better than your lame ones that always wind up getting you flushed out.”
“Finally, and related to my first complaint above, what’s this garbage about me not being allowed to prowl the neighborhood and canoodle with the feminine gland? I don’t recall taking any vow of celibacy or, similarly, getting married like you. So stop cramping my lifestyle.”
“Ok, that’s enough for now. I trust you’re gonna make things right so we don’t have to have another talk like this. Let’s go, boys.”
I opened my eyes and it was morning. I heard the cat outside my door but for 20 minutes, I did not have the nerve to open it. Finally, I did. He was his usual self, like a normal cat.
Unlike normal cats, though, he gets “surf & turf” and hourly kitty litter servicing from now on.
-I.M. Windee
