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?”
My little brother Salem and I are sitting at our dinner plates overflowing with Kibble, when he moans, “Today sucks. Shorthair hasn’t returned my calls in days.”
“Big deal,” I reply, “I haven’t had a girl call me back all year.”
He stops eating and cuts his eyes at me, “Yeah, well, our last date sucked too. When I got home, I realized I had a piece of tuna stuck in between my teeth.”
“Please,” I roll my eyes, “the last time I had a date, it was with a Chihuahua.” I pause for effect, “and she gave me fleas.”
“Well, Shorthair told everyone I had bad breath. Felines all down the block were snickering at me for weeks.”
“So what? The Chihuahua said she only went out with me because of my pic on CATch.com.”
“So, she thought I was a gerbil.”
Salem takes his paw and pushes his plate towards me, “You win.”
I scarf down the Kibble and think, “Damn right, I win. Nobody sucks more than I do,” oddly feeling better that I won at something.
I finally relent and allow my big brother Salem teach me how to flirt. He seems to have a lot more success with the females than I do, so I figure, why not?
He stands in front of me and says, “Ok, show me what you got.”
I proceed to wink. Half my face seizes up on one side and both my eyes close instead of one. He stares at me blankly.
“What. Was. That?”
“I almost called 911 for you.”
I throw my paws up in the air and walk away, “I give up.” I hear Chihuahuas aren’t very picky.
I walk into the bedroom and Salem is standing in front of the mirror talking to himself.
“What. Are you doing?” I have to ask.
“I’m practicing my act. I want to be on Caturday Night Live one day.” He puffs out his tail a little.
I chuckle. “You want to be a Toonces? Man, I’ve met Toonces, and you ain’t no Toonces.” I shake my head at the magnitude of his delusions.
“No, I want to be like Will Feral or Jerry Strayfeld and do stand-up comedy.”
“Ummmm….okay. Show me what you got.” This ought to be good.
He slicks his whiskers back, stands up straight and holds a stick toy in his paws like it’s a microphone.
“What’s the deal with dogs? Am I right? I see these dogs all over the internet letting their humans put all kinds of shit on their heads just to get a treat. Now, that’s messed up. We cats don’t perform for our food. If we want to get a treat, we get right in our human’s face and tell them to GIVE ME A DAMN TREAT! Sometimes we even have to sit on their heads to get them to do it, but you can bet they do it. Damn dogs are trying to ruin it for everyone.”
I stare at him blankly, blink a few times and walk away. #ITryNotToEncourageThisKindOfBehavior #YouAin’tNoJerryStrayfeldEither
So my little brother Salem struts over to me today, “Hey, I’m thinking about changing my name.”
I raise an eyebrow, “To what?”
He arches his back a little, “Butch. Yeah, I’m thinking Butch.”
My mouth drops open and I glance around. He knows that’s a dog’s name, right? I just stare at him, “Uh, huh.”
He puffs up and as he swaggers off he gives me a wink and nods his head and I swear I hear a rattling sound. #I’mPretendingIDon’tKnowYouWhenTabbyComesOver #Don’tSitNextToMeAtDinnerEither