Salem's Rant

I jump onto the bed to take a little nap and I see my little brother Salem already sitting there looking annoyed. He glances at me and starts jabbering away like I invited him to or something. Sheesh.

“Shorthair thinks she so cool now that she’s working,” he rolls his eyes at me.

“What does she do?” I ask.

“She’s a therapy cat part-time now.” He glares over at me, “Big deal. I give our little humans therapy for free all the time.” His paw flails in the air and spit flies out at me when he says this.

He continues, “I listen. I never judge.” He places his paw on his chest, “When the little girl human wore plaid with stripes I didn’t mew a word, not a single word. And remember the perm of 2017? Did I hiss or scratch? No, I did not.”

“You’re a regular saint, you are,” I nod at him.

“Bet your tail I am.”

I decided it might be more peaceful in another room and start to leave. As I’m walking away I still hear rumblings.

“Free back rubs, sweater fluffs, food tastings…”

For the Physicists Out There

My little brother Salem asked me one day, “Why did that guy Schrodinger put his cat in a box?”

“To show the absurdity that waves (particles) collapse only once observed.”

“So what makes them collapse?”

“They’ll figure it out once they hear that tree in the forest fall.”

Salem scratches his head, “I’ll bet there were treats in the box.”

For the Neuroscientists Out There

I walk up to my little brother Salem and hold out my left paw containing tuna treats and bitch slap him with my right paw.

“What’d you do that for?” he asks, rubbing his cheek.

“My right brain said ‘give him a treat’ but my left brain said ‘slap him’ and the left brain won.” I shrug my shoulders as I walk away, “Sorry. You can’t argue with neuroscience.”