Ah, Saturday With My Brother

It’s a typical Saturday morning, and I find myself pinned to the floor with my little brother Salem sitting on top of me.

“Say it. Say I’m the king.” He looks me square in the eyes and smiles.

“No! You’re not the king. You’re a fat-faced doo-doo head who couldn’t catch a mouse if he had opposable thumbs,” I sputter in defiance. I find it is important not to lose my dignity in these kinds of situations.

In a bold and classic sibling move, he grabs my tail and holds it, flicking and twitching, to my face. “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” he mocks.

“AAhhhh! Stop that!” He finally releases his grip, and I wiggle out from under him. With one swipe of my paw, I slap his stupid face and flee to my human’s room where I know I will have protection.

Later that day, Salem mysteriously finds his favorite stick toy floating in the toilet. I sit and watch from my human’s bed in delight as he fishes it out. Well played, Suki. Well played, I tell myself.

It is only later, as I start to take a nap, I pause and wonder if it is wise to close my eyes right now?

4 thoughts on “Ah, Saturday With My Brother

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