Brothers

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?

If only there were some way to find out.

Oh, What Fresh Hell Is This?

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.

Life is hard sometimes.

Argh!!!

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’!!”