One of the Teenagers in our house is begging our human to teach her to drive today, so Salem and I sit and listen. It promises to be entertaining.
“Please, Mom, Dad will just yell at me the whole time. He has no patience.”
“Okay, but the minute my hair starts falling out, it’s over. You have to let your Dad teach you.”
As they settle into the car, Teenager eagerly puts the keys in the ignition.
“Whoa, there. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Starting the car?”
“Not so fast, missy. Are you trying to get us killed? First things, first.” Our human points in front of her, “Now, this is the glove compartment. Know it well. It will contain all your essentials: An emergency twenty dollar bill if you ever find yourself broken down in the middle of nowhere and needing a taxi, an emergency cell phone charger in case you find yourself stranded and your phone is dead, a first aid kit in case of a minor accident, a map to the nearest hospital in case of a major accident and you can’t find your phone, a list of emergency phone numbers in case you need AAA, the insurance company, or a tow truck, and a small screwdriver, a hammer in case you need to break the window to get out of a smashed-in door, a knife in case you have to cut yourself out of your seatbelt after an accident, and a can of mace in case a lunatic approaches you while you are broken down on the side of the road, and you have to defend yourself.”
Teenager opens the door and starts to get out of the car. Our human looks at her, “What are you doing?”
“If you think I’m driving this death trap now, you’re crazy.”
I’m lounging in the sunroom when boredom sets in. I glance around and see my little brother Salem playing with his stick toy, so I let out a very soft rumble.
Salem’s eyes dart in my direction, so I stare straight ahead as though I don’t notice him. Then, I let out another faint purr.
Salem’s head swivels toward me, “Stop that!”
“Stop what?” I ask.
“Stop purring. You’re doing it just to annoy me.”
I blink my eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not making a sound.”
Salem looks at our sister Sasha, “Do you hear that?”
“What?” she says.
“Suki’s purring so only I can hear it, just to annoy me. Look, you can see the fur on his chest vibrating!”
Sasha stares at us both for a minute, shakes her head, and walks away, “Sorry, but I don’t hear anything.”
I smile at Salem…and purr.
A second later finds me sprinting through the house, tail puffed, and Salem following close behind. It ends with me hiding under the sofa and Salem sitting next to it making sure I can’t leave. So I lay down…….
After leaving the vet’s office, our human drove one teenager to work, one to the library, and then went to the post office, the UPS Store, and Lowes. Then she put her grocery list back into her purse, saying, “This will just have to wait another day.”
Our other teenager looked at the dashboard and said, “I can’t wait to get my driver’s license.”
Tired, our human sighed, “Really, why?”
“Oh man, just to have independence.” He smiled and said wistfully, “You know, that feeling of being free.”
I glanced at my human. Then we laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
Salem has been anxiously watching the mailman all week. “What are you waiting for anyway?” I ask.
“I saved up my paw points for months and ordered a pair of super special x-ray glasses. You can see right through fur with them!”
“That doesn’t sound possible.” I scratch my head.
“Wait and see.” Just then, the mail arrived through the slot. Salem paws through it and rips open a large envelope.
“It’s here!” He hurriedly puts on a pair of black-rimmed glasses and stares at me, grinning.
“Do they work? Can you see anything?”
He squints his eyes, moves his head from side to side, and says, “Ah, fascinating!”
“What? What do you see?”
“I can see all of your bones. They’re gross.” He smiles.
“You can not! Let me try.”
“I can so! And no, your eyes aren’t sophisticated enough to see this. You have to look through them in a certain way.”
He grins, “You have big bones!”
“I do not!” He spends the rest of the day parading around the house in those stupid glasses, acting all superior. After lunch, he looks at me, “I can see what you ate!”
Later, when he’s not looking, I put on the glasses. I don’t see any difference. Maybe I’m not wearing them correctly. I hold up my paw. No bones. Just a furry paw. That dunderhead. He must be making it all up.
Unless there really is a trick to seeing with them. Damn it!
Two of the little humans in our household were recently inspired by a movie. In the scene, a man and woman are seen rolling around while tossing $100 bills into the air. “Raining money”, they called it.
Our little humans felt they could do better. One laid down on the floor while the other one ran to get the money. Seconds later, screams and shouts were heard as one poured a jar containing $78.32 in coins on top of the other one.
Salem and I laughed so hard our Kibble almost came back up. We heard there’s another movie called 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag, so we’re pretty pumped!
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!!!!”
I blink hard as a tennis ball sails past my head. I quickly glance around. I see Sasha’s ears sticking up from the back of the box she is cowering behind, then I hear the whoosh of another ball as it whizzes by me and I dart behind the sofa.
I peer around. Jodie. Crap. I hate that kid. Jody is the neighbor kid who comes over from time to time to visit one of our little humans. We hate her.
She often finds sick amusement in pelting us with various objects and watching us scatter.
I scan the room. I see Salem’s tail sticking out from the curtains. He sucks at Hide ‘n Seek. “Psst, Salem.”
“How do you know I’m Salem? I could be some other cat.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. Hey, cat, behind the curtains.”
“Can you cover me for a minute?” I point a paw at the pink shoes by the front door.
Salem looks at the shoes and grins. “Yeah!” He slowly walks out from behind the curtains and instantly endures a barrage of balls to the head and body. I race to the door and do my deed and run back for cover behind the couch. Salem slinks back as well, his fur sticking up here and there.
Our little human calls Jody to her bedroom and we all flee to our human’s room and hide under her bed. It is there that we feel safe and begin to revel in our deed.
Later we high paw each other and guffaw at the sound of her cursing as she slams the front door. Salem looks at me, “Number 1 or number 2?”
Yesterday, I observed one of the small humans refusing to eat something called a “leftover”. It seemed frighteningly inedible. First, he poked it with his finger. Then he leaned down and gave it one good sniff. His body shivered and he slowly backed away. I glanced at the food and back to the human, but he had already escaped. I didn’t take any chances and fled as well.
Later, when I spied the same food in Salem’s dish, I knew what I had to do:
I promptly put stickers with my name on it, on his cat bed, toy snake, and scratching post. #NotWarningYourAss #TakingYourStuff #RIP
Among us felines, my brother Salem boasts the most sneak attacks in our house. He actually prides himself on his ability to lunge at unsuspecting passers-by with the speed of a Cheetah.
I remember one day in particular, when he was strutting through the living room after an exceptionally excessive bout of bragging, and I pounced out from behind the sofa, bitch-slapped him across the face, and ran like hell into the other room in one swift drive-by, before anyone could blink.
I believe one of the smaller humans witnessed this feat as it was talked about among them for years afterward. Who’s bragging now? #ME #BitchSlappedThatBitch #FelineDriveBy
My human has a toy sitting in the kitchen that’s been taunting me quite a bit lately. It’s been sitting there, on the counter top, in the corner since we moved here in 2011. Every time I get close enough to it to investigate, my human shoos me away.
But she’s not here today…
She’s out of the house doing something called, “suffering through another damn pool party where I’m just going to wrinkle.” This is my chance. So, I jump onto the counter. I sniff it. Nothing. I touch it. It’s a little heavier than it looks. Must be something super cool though if they don’t want anyone else to play with it. It’s thinner on top than on bottom. I don’t have a toy this big. Yet. It’s label says it’s a “Gallo”.
I wonder what it does. I bet it bounces and rolls like a bitch! I push it a little.
Okay, my bad. It doesn’t bounce. Shit. There’s red stuff everywhere now. I have to go.
The small human known as “Don’t Touch That” recently had a birthday. I would say I remember him fondly as a child, but I can’t. He and I haven’t been on speaking terms for years. Oh, I remember that human well. We briefly engaged in what is now known as the War of 2016.
How it started, I am uncertain. Who really remembers how these things go, but as I recall, he sat on me once when I was a kitten. I retaliated with a hair ball in his bed. It was a bold move, I admit, but I didn’t start this war, he did.
He pulled my whiskers, hid my treats, and called me “Bowser”. I scratched his shoes, hid his socks, and barfed on his coat. I’m not going to lie, those were some hard days. I spent my afternoons hiding behind chairs and curtains and under the bed. I even skipped a meal once when I spied him suspiciously lurking around the food dish.
The last straw was when he put little pieces of tape on the bottoms of my paws. He laughed and I vowed revenge. The next day, he awoke to a nice urine soaked pillow. Screams were heard and normally unspeakable things were spoken. I, of course, had to lay low after that, but yes, the war was over and I had won. No one calls me “Bowser” now.
Don’t eat the roses, they don’t taste too good today. Well, one of my little humans came home and was talking about winning a pie contest at school. He seemed pretty proud of himself, too. Well, I looked all over and I couldn’t find a pie anywhere. I think he was just teasing me. So I ate my big human’s roses she put out instead. I nibbled here and there but later, my tummy hurt and I threw up everywhere. I think it was all the mention of pie that did me in.