I notice my little brother Salem with a large pile of twigs and sticks lying in front of him and ask, “What are you doing with those?”
“I’m going to throw them at that cute calico down the street.”
“And why on earth would you do that?”
“Because, when the little human did a cartwheel in front of Tommy at recess, she said he was pelting her with straws by lunchtime. And apparently, that means he really, really likes her, much more than Jenny because he only threw a spitball at her.” He places another stick down, “It’s foolproof.”
I scratch my head, “That sounds about right,” then I bitch slap him as hard as I can. As I’m fleeing for my life, I yell, “That just means I love you the most!!!! Ahhhhhh!!!!”
It’s a beautiful fall day outside. The leaves are rustling, and the squirrels are skittering about the yard. I, of course, am lounging on the sofa.
And my little brother Salem is darting around the room chasing a fly. He seems to be on a mission, and I watch.
He leaps over the ottoman in a single bound and bounces off the coffee table onto the carpet in one perfect move, sticking the landing. Two seconds later, he is sprinting in and out of the room and turning on a dime.
I notice his flexed muscles as he does a vertical leap into the air, extending his paws in an effort to catch the fly.
Putting my paw on my slightly protruding tummy, I say, “I’m going to need you to fail at that.”
Salem and I watch as one teenager puts her donut down with one hand and grasps her cell phone with the other, in between sobs.
The second teenager panics, “Oh my God, did something happen? Was Mom in an accident?”
Salem looks at me, “This is getting good.” I nod.
She takes a deep breath, “It’s Noah.” She clutches her phone, “He sent me a wink face emoji. So, then I sent him a vomit emoji by mistake,” she gasps. “Then I tried to fix it and I sent him a kissy face emoji and a potato emoji by accident.” She continues sobbing, “Then I panicked and sent him a cow, a carrot, and a baby!”
Both teenagers scream in unison.
“Okay, hand over the phone.” The second teen reaches out and pries the phone out of her hand. “Don’t worry, we can fix this. It’s going to be okay. ” She starts texting, “We’ll just tell him that Suki stepped on the phone, accidentally sending garble.”
Kibble falls out of my mouth as I stare in disbelief. “You just can’t trust humans,” I shake my head. “I wonder which emoji means, ‘I just peed on your shoe’?”
Sometimes, when my little brother Salem and I are bored, we like to sit and watch the smaller humans. It can be quite entertaining. Today, the two teenagers seem to be acting out a scene from daytime television.
Salem walks up to me and asks, “Teenager is crying? Was that Savannah girl being mean to her again at school? I don’t know why they are friends with her,” he shakes his head.
“No, they ousted her last week for wearing glitter lipstick. Keep up, will ya?”
We both watch intently. One teenager is sobbing uncontrollably when the other one walks up.
Her eyes widen as she approaches, “What. Are. You. Doing?” She holds her hands up in a halting motion, “Okay, calm down. Nothing is worth this.” She talks slower, “Put .. the.. donut.. down.”
Salem and I settle in. I hold out my paw, “Pass the Kibble.”
Yes, these are the days of our lives. Will the teenager drown her sorrows in a box of Krispy Kremes? Will they be friends with the cosmetically unfashionable Savannah, ever again? Will Salem pass the Kibble? All these questions and more will be answered next time on The World According To Suki.
Salem and I are looking out our window when we see this little bitty calico kick this labrador’s ass!! Our mouths drop open and we just stare in disbelief. I mean, she is some kind of fierce. I don’t know what he did to piss her off, but she’s giving him the business.
When he finally slinks away, she turns toward us and hisses. I peed a little, and Salem hid behind the curtain. I’m not 100% certain, but I’m pretty sure we’re not ready for the streets.
Salem later recalls to me how he told her, “you better not pull that crap on me.” I blink, “You said that to her?”
He points a paw toward his face, “With my eyes. I said it with my eyes.”
I stare at him and ask, “Can you tell what I’m saying with my eyes right now?”
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 youhitting yourself? Why are you hittingyourself?” 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?
My humans are in the middle of moving to another state this week so I am currently staying at a hotel.
Apparently, there are two classes of hotels. There are regular hotels with their clean crisp sheets and fancy doors that lock, and then there are hotels that allow pets.
Yes, mine is the one with sketchy alley cats hanging out in the parking lot peddling catnip and questionable Frooskie’s treats out of the back of their carriers. I attempted to hide under the bed when strange noises began emanating from the other side of the wall but a mean butterfly had already claimed that spot.
My little brother Salem acted all tough at first, like he was some kind of badass feral and in his element, but the first time a cat with matted fur and missing teeth approached him asking for some tuna, he ran and hid in the bathroom. A bathroom, by the way, I could swear had the chalk outline of a terrier on its floor.
It’s scary as crap. Rumors are flying around that the only food available on the streets is dry and off-brand. Consequently, I’m doing everything I can not to get shut out of the room accidentally.
If you don’t hear from me again, there’s a good chance I’ve met my demise and some rabid little Shih Tzu is picking bits of me out of his teeth.
Sasha, Salem, and I are sitting in the living room window admiring the various wildlife outside when we all spy a small cricket at the same time. Ah, nature. It’s a beautiful thing.
Salem points a paw at it and says, “Oh, I could have that eaten in one second.”
I roll my eyes, “Sure you could, it’s tiny.”
Irked, he gestures to a larger grasshopper sitting on the deck, “I could eat that, too,” then he grins, “all in one bite!”
We all look at the grasshopper in wonder, sitting in the golden sunlight, its green legs tapping the deck. Out of nowhere, a large hairy brown spider, the size of a human’s skull, rips the grasshopper’s head off and devours it whole.
My eyes pop out. Sasha faints.
Salem gulps, “I think I need to go clean my stick toy now.”
If we ever get the urge to view animals in the wild again, we will turn on the T.V. and watch Pets ofThe RealHousewives.
My little brother Salem has been seeing a feline named Shorthair recently. I don’t know what she sees in him and not me. He drools and snores for Pete’s sake. What has he got that I haven’t? I look over at him, sleeping on the floor, with that stupid smug look on his face. I just want to smack it.
He just thinks he’s better than me now doesn’t he? I’ll bet they just sit around laughing at me. He probably tells her that I’m just his little servant. A loser kitty with fleas who can’t get a date. He probably jokes that dogs won’t even date me.
I cut my eyes at him sleeping over there like some kind of king. Who does he think he is anyway?
I start to walk away and as I pass by him he opens his eyes and asks, “Is dinner ready?”
As my brother Salem is sitting on top of me, pinning me down, a large drop of spittle is forming in the corner of his mouth. As brothers often do, he threatens to let it drop on my face if I don’t submit to his will.
“Say it. Say you won’t touch my things ever again.”
I can’t help but stare at the drool forming into a large droplet dangling precariously from his lips. It could drop at any moment and yet I surprisingly hold firm. “NO.”
He grins and shakes his head causing the droplet to start to separate from his mouth. “Swear you won’t take anything of mine again!” He leans closer so that his face is within one inch of mine and says it one more time with gusto, “Sweaaaaar it!”
“Aaaaah, I swear. I swear,” I utter as his claws dig into my chest.
He lifts his body off of mine and struts away in triumph. Sitting up, I shake his loose hairs off of me. I glance over and see that his food dish still has several Friskies treats in it. Hmm, I scratch my head. I wonder what flavor those are?
It’s been a rough day. The little humans are always home now. I never get a moment of peace or privacy anymore. And I have places that need to be licked. Feeling the mounting stress, I find a warm stream of light to relax in.
I reach for a nice Friskies tuna flavored cat treat and realize the pouch is empty. You always think it’s going to happen to someone else.
I hold firm and don’t cry. Okay, I cry. I cry a lot. Then I eat an entire pouch of the lesser-known Frooskies cat treats my human bought me once thinking I wouldn’t notice. Asshole.