The Feral Life

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?”

A Contest I Can Win

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.”

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.

Being a Big Brother at 5 a.m.

I hear my human’s alarm clock go off so I patiently sit by my food dish. A minute later my food dish is shockingly still empty. I trot over to her room to see what disaster has screwed up my mealtime.

I nod at Salem, “Is she awake yet?”

He shakes his head, “No, she hasn’t moved a muscle.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Hmm.” I glance over at the bed, “I bet she’s just pretending to be asleep.”

Salem stares at me, “Would a human really do that?”

He’s so naive. I flick out my claws and with one good tap of her foot, she bolts upright.

“HEY!”

I glance back at Salem with all the smugness I can muster, “See.”

Two seconds later breakfast is served. He has so much to learn.

Who Did it Better? Birthdays of the Past Edition

I walk into the room, and I see my little brother Salem dropping a dead mouse onto our human’s bed.

“What are you doing with that?” I ask him.

“I caught it for our human. You know it’s her birthday today, right?”

Yesss,” I reply. (Damn it!)

Not to be outdone by my little brother, I return with the remote I hid a week ago.

Ah, Saturday With My Brother

It’s a typical Saturday morning, and I find myself pinned to the floor with my little brother Salem sitting on top of me.

“Say it. Say I’m the king.” He looks me square in the eyes and smiles.

“No! You’re not the king. You’re a fat-faced doo-doo head who couldn’t catch a mouse if he had opposable thumbs,” I sputter in defiance. I find it is important not to lose my dignity in these kinds of situations.

In a bold and classic sibling move, he grabs my tail and holds it, flicking and twitching, to my face. “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” he mocks.

“AAhhhh! Stop that!” He finally releases his grip, and I wiggle out from under him. With one swipe of my paw, I slap his stupid face and flee to my human’s room where I know I will have protection.

Later that day, Salem mysteriously finds his favorite stick toy floating in the toilet. I sit and watch from my human’s bed in delight as he fishes it out. Well played, Suki. Well played, I tell myself.

It is only later, as I start to take a nap, I pause and wonder if it is wise to close my eyes right now?

Flirting Advice From Salem

I’m staring out the window, admiring this cute feline from down the road when my little brother Salem comes over.

“You gotta make your move, man. She’s never going to notice you if you don’t.”

“I don’t have a move,” I answer, bowing my head. I’m just not as smooth with the ladies.

He waves a paw, “Catch a spider in front of her. That drives the girls wild.”

I shake my head, “I can’t do a spider. They creep me out.”

Salem laughs at me, “Then catch something else, Duffus.” He turns and taps the glass causing her to look my way.

Ack! I’m not prepared. I quickly glance around and begin flailing about at a fly. Then I arch my back, puff up my tail, bend down and eat it.

Salem’s mouth drops open, he raises an eyebrow and looks to the floor, “What was that?”

I keep my head low and mumble, “A raisin. A dusty old raisin.” I slink away with the fly following me.

Hmpf!

My little brother Salem has been seeing a feline named Shorthair recently. I don’t know what she sees in him and not me. He drools and snores for Pete’s sake. What has he got that I haven’t? I look over at him, sleeping on the floor, with that stupid smug look on his face. I just want to smack it.

He just thinks he’s better than me now doesn’t he? I’ll bet they just sit around laughing at me. He probably tells her that I’m just his little servant. A loser kitty with fleas who can’t get a date. He probably jokes that dogs won’t even date me.

I cut my eyes at him sleeping over there like some kind of king. Who does he think he is anyway?

I start to walk away and as I pass by him he opens his eyes and asks, “Is dinner ready?”

I bitch slap him. “Dating has changed you.”

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.

Flirting 101

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?”

“A wink?”

“Stop that.”

“No good?”

“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’m Bored

Out of the corner of my eye I see my little brother Salem walking by. I immediately sit up and begin biting the air.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m pretending to eat your birthday cake,” I pause for dramatic effect, “and it’s goooood.”

His eyes bulge, “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”

I smile, “No,” and continue to eat the fake cake.

“That’s mine!! Cut it out!”

“Oh, wait,” I pause and smile, “I haven’t blown out the candles yet.”

“You’re going to die!” He races toward me.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I haul ass into the next room and spend the better part of the night hiding under the bed. Times are good.

Ah, Siblings…

My little brother Salem has been sleeping on the floor for the last hour when he wakes up and glances around confused, “Where’d my sunbeam go?”

I smile, “Oh, I turned it off. Sorry.”

He cuts his eyes at me, “Well turn it back on.”

“No.”

He stands up and says a bit louder, “I said, ‘turn it back on’.”

I said, ‘No’.”

Salem crouches down, preparing to lunge, “Turn. It. On!”

I race away screaming, “Noooooooooooooo!”

P.S. I just wanted to share that I made FeedSpot.com’s top 200 cat blogs list. I’m number 138!! Hey, I’m estatic just to make the list!! Check it out: Their list of top cat blogs: https://blog.feedspot.com/cat_blogs/

The Pacifist In Me

My little brother Salem is what you might call hospitably challenged. You see, in the world of felines, there are bullies and there are those that are bullied. Salem is a born and bred bully. He kind of prides himself on it. I myself am an accomplished pacifist. Which means I can run fast. Very, very fast.

I’m more of a brains cat than a brawny one. My battles take planning. Scheming. I find that revenge, like tuna, is best served cold.

Today, I found the outer shell of one of Salem’s claws stuck in my fur. A souvenir from yesterday’s surprise attack. Well, I’m getting even. When he wakes from his nap, he’ll find his face staring at the business end of Teenager’s underwear. Underwear I found on the floor!

“Suuuukkkkkkiiii!!!!!!”

Ack! I gotta go.

My Little Brother Brags Too Much, So……

Lately, my little brother Salem has been bragging like a dog about his two dates with Shorthair. It fluffs my tail if you know what I mean.

So, needless to say, I was not in the most gracious mood today.

Salem saunters over to take a sip of water out of our new water dish.

I hold up my paw, “Halt! You can’t drink out of that.”

Salem’s mouth drops open and he stares at me, “Why not?”

“That dish is sacred. Do you see that chip on the edge? It is said that it came from the human who is a cousin to the human who once pet Grumpy Cat’s real live mother.” My paw flourishes over the dish to show the magnitude of the situation.

He steps back in awe, “Ahh, I had no idea.”

I puff up my chest with pride and lower my voice in respect of “the dish”. I point a paw toward our human’s bathroom toilet, “You may drink from there.”

Salem trots off and I snicker as I drink the sweet water of revenge.

Nightly Games

Salem and I are playing our nightly game of Truth or Dare. I look at him and say, “I dare you to go from the living room to the kitchen without touching the floor.”

“Easy peasy,” he waves a paw at me. He turns and bounds from the top of the sofa to the back of the chair in one glorious leap that rivals that of any leopard. Then he soars from the back of the chair to the breakfast bar. As he slides across it, he knocks off two cups before careening to a stop.

Impressive.

He smiles and looks at me, “My turn. Truth or Dare?”

My physical prowess tends to rival that of the fat cat Garfield than anyone else, so why embarrass myself? “Truth.”

Salem narrows his eyes at me, “Did you tell Shorthair that I have fleas?”

“Ummm…” (What I said was that I saw a flea on you. Really, I don’t know how these things get so exaggerated.)

Run!!!!!!

Suki: Role Model Extraordinaire

Unlike Salem, my little sister appreciates the genius that I am. She wants to be just like me.

Yesterday, I found her sitting in the bedroom on our human’s laptop looking very proud of herself.

“What’cha doing?”

She looks at me and smiles, “I’m writing, just like you.” Her face is literally beaming with pride. “It’s my magnum opus,” and she points to the screen.

amcjd.,/,.@#rpeouw4ir374[11111111111….x/vvceeeeeertvbklj

I just smile and nod, smile and nod…….

Suki: M.D. To The Overdramatic

Salem, my little brother, staggers into the living room, swaying to and fro.

“Are you on the “nip” again?”

“Oh,” he swoons and places his paw to his forehead dramatically, “I’m wounded. You have to help me,” and he lays out on the floor in front of me moaning softly.

I look him over seeing no obvious signs of injury. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my paw. It hurts real bad.” He raises a feeble paw up for me to inspect.

I look it over. “Ah, I see.” Stuck in the pad of his front right paw is a tiny Lego. I shake my head solemnly, “Well, we might be able to save the leg.”

Salem lets out another moan and looks as though he might faint. He closes his eyes. I smile.

“Any last words? You know, just in case?”

He comes to for a second and moans louder. I peel off the Lego and toss it aside.

“Okay. It was touch and go for a moment but I’ve done it. I’ve saved your leg,” I lower my voice, “and your life.”

Salem opens his eyes and smiles at me. “Oh man, you’re the best brother in the world. I’ll never mess with you again.” And he trots off happy to be alive.

Yeah, I did that. I gave him the gift of a near death experience because he’s my brother and I love him.

I later bill him five tuna treats for my services.

What Brothers Are Really For

I look at our food dishes and see somthing new and peculiar in them. This may be exciting for other felines, but around here, we know better. The things called “leftovers” are to be avoided at all cost. We’ve discovered that they are usually covered in a thick layer of black or can chip your teeth. Neither of which is appealing.

I take my paw and slowly lift the mysterious food item up and inspect it from every angle. I turn it over, gently handling it with the care of explosives about to go off. You never know.

Then I sniff it from all sides. Huh. It seems okay. I think it is something called “takeout”. But still, I do the responsible thing.

“Salem!”

Salem bounds in, “What?”

I point to his dish, “Look, new food.”

He Hoovers it up in two bites. Licking his lips, he smiles and trots off. I wait ten seconds to see if he falls over dead.

Nope. Now, that’s what brothers are for.

#BrothersSuck

I’ve been preening all day and working up the nerve to talk to the cute new black and white shorthair that’s been hanging around our yard lately.

I smooth out my fur, fluff up my tail and walk over to the window. She’s sitting right in front. Yowsa!

I strut right up to her and just as I’m about to make my move, my brother Salem walks up to me, points a paw at his teeth and says, “You got a little something right here.”

You suck. You suck. You suck. As I slink away I notice her making googly eyes at him.

#HeEatsOutOfTheTrashYouKnowButWhatever #BrothersAreTheWorst

#InTheLandOfDroolAndHoney

I’m sitting in the portal to the vet. I have to do this once a year and it is annoying. My sister Sasha is here to comfort me as I go.

“If I don’t make it back, tell Salem he can have my stash of tuna treats I buried in the front yard.”

“You have tuna treats buried in the yard?”

“No.” A smile breaks across my face.

EARLIER THAT DAY:

I open my eyes slowly. It’s morning and I can smell breakfast being set out. I reach my paw to my forehead which is a little cold and feel a substantial amount of drool spread across my fur. Now, since gravity doesn’t allow for my drool to naturally flow upward, I surmise it is the work of Satan. Ooops, Salem. Lessons will have to be taught.