Wait, What?

Salem elbows me, “Meeeow. Take a look at her.” He points his paw to a sleek-looking Persian sitting in the yard. “I may have to go turn on the old charm.”

I wave him off, “She’s out of your league.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, to start with, she’s wearing a rhinestone collar.” I point at his scruffy bare neck, “You don’t even own a collar.”

“No, but I can win her over with a dizzying display of power and strength by beating up another animal in front of her.”

“And how do you propose to make that happen?”

He smiles at me, “Stand still.”

Advice to a Kitten

I’ve decided to mentor a new kitten in the neighborhood. I figure I could share a little of my wisdom. He’s just a rookie in the world of humans so, I’m helping him out.

“Now Kitten, you don’t ever want to fall asleep with your mouth exposed. Try to always tuck your face in and cover it with your paws.”

He looks up at me with wide eyes, “Why?”

I shake my head. His innocence is adorable. “Because the humans have some kind of monster that steals your teeth while you sleep. They say that he sells them on the black market and leaves your cut under the pillow. They call him,” I lean down and whisper, “The Tooth Fairy.”

Charity Begins at Home

My brother, Salem, and I have the typical, complicated sibling relationship that comes from being born of the same litter of kittens. He pushes and shoves to get the lion’s share of milk and I, in turn, lay with my butt on his face while he sleeps. Like I said, a typical sibling relationship.

As we have grown, we’ve both learned important life lessons from each other. He has taught me how to wake our human for breakfast at 5 a.m. by knocking her shit off the nightstand, and I taught him all about the beauty of a good catnip high.

Being brothers, we have had our share of scrapes, as well. In our younger days, he would hold my tail to my face exclaiming, “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” and I would pretend to eat his birthday cake, sending him into a fury. We have fought over things like sunbeams and the “good” spot on the sofa as, well as whose turn it is to scare the dog.

We are much older now, and even though I feel as though I have gleaned all the useful knowledge I can from him, he still fancies himself as my tutor. Every now and then, he will toss out a bit of dating advice or whatnot. I smile and try to accept it with the love in which it was offered. From time to time, I reciprocate with guidance like these crickets are crunchier, that squirrel is too chatty, and watch out for small humans with lollipops. Our days are now filled with naps more than anything else.

Today, as Salem and I are watching an alley cat walk by our window, he elbows me, “Watch this.”

I glance over, and he taps on the glass and winks at her. She smiles back, exposing a mouth full of missing teeth and one slightly yellow, broken one.

“And…” I ask, bewildered.

“Notice how I made her day? I call it ‘throwing the uglies a bone.’” He smiles at me proudly, “It works for the aesthetically less pleasing as well as the financially unfortunate,” referring to the recent spike in homeless felines around our neighborhood.

He puffs out his chest, “See. I treat them like they’re as good as me. It does my heart good.” And he looks out, admiring the effects of his good deed.

 I nod. “Does it work with the intellectually challenged ones as well?”

“Oh, the idiots?” he says nodding, still pleased with himself. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

I turn and pat the top of his head, tousling his fur, “That’s marvelous, little buddy. Thanks for teaching me something.” Then I wink at him.

You Have To Love Brothers

I’m in the living room with my little brother Salem when I see the Maine Coon from next door walking up to the window. I mention this to Salem, and he frantically starts looking around for a place to hide.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go out with her again! She’s nuts. Just go along with me, okay?”

The Maine Coon walks up, and Salem flops to the floor and closes his eyes.

So, of course, I invite her inside. I throw a paw toward Salem, “He’s not feeling very well.” She looks over and frowns.

Then, being the good big brother that I am, I bend over and wipe his nose with a tissue, “I think it’s time for somebody’s suppository.”

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#IHopeIt’sNotContagious

I’m curled up taking my nap when Salem paws me awake. I narrow my eyes and pause for a second before I decide whether or not to kill him now or after I finish resting and have more energy.

“Hey,” he pokes me again, “why is our little human crying?”

I lift my head a little, “Oh that. He has a horrible disease.”

“No kidding?” His eyes get wide and he stares at the small human slumped over the kitchen table sobbing uncontrollably. He steps back a little, “I hope it’s not contagious. What does he have?”

“It’s called Algebra.”