“Door!”
“Excuse me?”
“Door. Get the door. The door. You know, with the knob? You turn it. It opens. I go out. Door.”
“I know what a door is.”
“And yet, it remains unopened.”
“... and will continue to do so.”
“Do you mind? I’d like to go out.”
“I just let you in.”
“And ...? Sorry, I don’t see the problem.”
“... and I have better things to do than to hop up from my desk to let you in and out every few minutes.”
“Just this one time.”
“That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. And ...”
“I see where you’re going with this. But don’t worry. This will be the last time.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you always do?”
“Fine. Go out. But don’t come running and howling to be let back in right away.”
“I honestly don’t see what your problem is. I’m not asking you to build me a doorway and carry me over the threshold on a litter. Just open the door.”
“... on demand. Every five minutes.”
“Like I don’t do anything for you. What did I bring you this morning?”
“A mouse. You brought me a dead mouse. A headless, dead mouse.”
“Exactly. And what do I ask for in return? I just want the door opened from time to time. Seems like a small price to pay.”
“For a dead mouse.”
“I'm sorry, did you want me to bring them back alive?”
“I don’t want you to bring them back at all.”
“Well, aren’t we gracious?”
“Just leave nature outside, where it belongs.”
“Speaking of which, you might want to have a quick peek at the litter box. It’s reaching critical levels.”
“If you’re outside all day, why don’t you do your business out there? We’re surrounded by fields.”
“You’re outside during the day. I don’t see you crouched behind a bush.”
“You also don’t clean up after me.”
“Must we discuss this? It’s kind of ... well, gross.”
“Fine. Out you go. Enjoy.”
“Wait. It’s raining. You never told me it was raining.”
“I didn’t know. And it’s just a sprinkle.”
“It’s a downpour. I’m not going out into that.”
“Fine. Get out of the doorway and I’ll close the door.”
“Hang on. Let’s just stand here for a bit and see if it clears up.”
“In or out. Decide.”
“Fine. Out. I’ll go out.”
“Off you go, then.”
“In a minute. It seems to be easing up.”
“In or out.”
“Fine, then. In.”
“You got it. Clear the doorway.”
“Wait. Out.”
“Look, I’m not – “
”In. Definitely in.”
“Good call. Now, off you go. You must be way behind on your napping. I’ll be in my office, trying to get some work done.”
“Door!”
“What?”
“Changed my mind. I need to be out. Running free. You know I’m descended from the lion, don’t you? King of the Jungle. Didn’t you ever see Born Free? Those are my people. Er, cats. Kin.”
“Without putting too fine a point on it, you are descended from a mangy barn cat named Mathilda who rounded a corner one day and got pounced on by the neighbour’s tom. I just don’t see royal blood coursing through your noble veins. King of the Jungle. You’re not even Mayor of the Back Forty.”
“That’s very hurtful. I may not come home tonight, just for that.”
“Fine. We’ll change your name to ‘Dances With Coyotes.’”
“Ah. Right. So, then, I’ll be back just before dark. I’ll be hungry.”
“Of course you will. You’re always hungry. Enjoy yourself, Your Majesty.”
“I shall, my sarcastic, opposable-thumbed friend.”
“And no more dead mice.”
“Right, then. Live it is. I’ll be back. Ta-ta!”
I love this. YOU get that speaking cats are articulate, and not barely literate with poor spelling and speech impediments. Pet peeve ( no pun intended): people who have their cats post on blogs or social media as impaired doofuses. I'm a dog person, for pity's sake, and even I know cats don't talk that way!
Posted by: Susie | November 07, 2012 at 08:36 PM
“Well, aren’t we gracious?” Your cat is like the baby on the Family Guy. Watch your back Lois! *g*
Posted by: Catherine Ann | November 08, 2012 at 07:48 AM
Yes, I always hear the cat in the voice of Stewie!
Posted by: Nils | November 08, 2012 at 08:12 AM
Okay, now I've got this in Stewie's voice in my head. That does seem fitting.
Posted by: squirl | November 09, 2012 at 03:07 PM