My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?
I walk into the bedroom and my little brother Salem is napping away. I clear my throat and remind him, “Our human is going to be mad if you don’t go and pick up your toys.”
He opens one eye halfway and responds, “I need a nap.”
“No you don’t, you just had one.”
“But I haven’t taken my meds yet, I’m exhausted,” he stretches his paws forward and closes his eyes again.
I scream in frustration, “They’re Tartar Control Friskies Bites! Stop calling them ‘your meds’!!”
I walk into the living room and my little brother Salem is clawing the crap out of our human’s couch.
“Why are you scratching up the sofa? Our human hates that.”
“It was staring at me weird.”
I point to the chair and say, “Oh, well then I think that chair said something nasty about you yesterday.”
My little brother Salem runs up to me with the goofiest grin I ever saw on his face.
He comes to a stop right in front of me and giggles, “Did you know your stomach can’t digest a ball of yarn?”
I stare at him blankly.
Then he grins, “Ask me how I know.”
I hear a banging sound and it’s interrupting my naptime. I go into the dining room and my little brother Salem is scratching and pounding on the bedroom door.
“Why are you pounding on the door?”
“Because our human closed it.”
“So?”
“So?! So?! What if she’s eating tuna and playing with a new catnip toy in there?”
I lift my paw, “Let me help you.”
My little brother Salem runs up to me all excited, “I caught this lizard.” He lifts his paw just enough to show the reptile squirming underneath. “Can we keep him?”
“What for?”
“I tore the tip of his tail off and I want to see if it grows back.”
I glare at him, “Remember the butterfly?”
“For the last time, I thought his wings were velcroed on.”
All I can hear is our human yelling in the laundry room. I look over at Salem, “What. Did. You. Do?”
He shrugs his shoulders, “I just used the litter box.”
“Well, did you cover good?”
“Not in the ‘traditional’ sense,” he averts his eyes.
“Well…” I tap my paw and wait.
“There may have been a blouse sitting outside the litter box that got pulled in when I was scratching.”
