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?
Ah, the moment of glory is almost upon me. That moment when I present my human with what is to be the most illustrious gift she has ever received. The stunned look of surprise and admiration that will come across her face is going to go down in history subsequently marking my gift as the greatest feline gift of all time.
This is it. I trot up to my human and mew to get her attention. She smiles and looks down on me with loving eyes. I’ve got her eating out of the pad of my paw. I smile back and drop my beloved and beautiful Meow Mix leopard print mouse with the long string tail and belly that squeaks when you bite it at her feet. I sit back and await the marvelous harrahs and praise she is about to shower upon me for such an excellent and generous gift.
Here it comes. She bends down and gently pats the top of my head and coos. Oh, this is going to be good. I tremble with anticipation.
“Well, isn’t this the sweetest thing you ever saw? Thank you both so much. You’re the best little kitties in the world.”
What the @%$#!&*! Both? Perplexed, I turn my head slightly to the left, and to my horror, sitting right beside me with the biggest grin you ever laid eyes on, is my little brother, Salem.
Oh, I’ve been outmaneuvered. Swindled. Bamboozled and hoodwinked. Yes, I’ve been duped by the best in the business. I would like to take this time to say “Merry Christmas to all and God bless you, each and every one,” but first I have to kill a cat.
Suffice it to say, I’ve been wavering between the Naughty and Nice list all year and with Santa Claws coming soon, I figure I need to do something to solidify my place on the Nice side. An amazing gift for my human just might do the trick. But what do I get her?
“Hey, Salem. What do you think we should get our human for Christmas?”
Salem’s mouth drops open, “We have to get her something?”
I blink a few times and then raise my right paw and bitch slap him. I bitch slap him hard. “Of course we do you numbskull.” Then I duck down and in my fastest auctioneering voice I blurt out, “If you want Santa to bring you treats you have to get her something so you’ll be on the Nice list and not the Naughty list so don’t slap me back I’m only trying to help you.”
He lowers his paw and I breathe again and stand back up.
“How about that old piece of string over there?” he motions toward the corner.
I restrain myself from slapping him again. “No, no. It has to be something she would love. Something special, beautiful, something extravagant.”
Salem’s eyebrows dip and he smiles, “Are you talking about yarn?”
Oh. My. God. How on earth does he get more dates than I do?
“Never mind. I’ll think of something myself.” I’ll get all the credit if I do it myself anyway.