Conversations with my cat
August 13, 2007
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Another in the ongoing series
El Mog: Hey, human, we need to talk.
Bagelmouse: [gasp] Are you breaking up with me?!
El Mog: Don’t be stupid, who else would feed me? Although, while we’re on that subject – what happened to my food?
Bagelmouse: Sorry, the vet said you were too fat and I have to feed you less.
El Mog: What? I thought she was a nice person! I even deigned to sniff her!
Bagelmouse: I know, I was very impressed you didn’t try to rip her hand off like the bloke vet. Anyway you’re too lardy and there’s this whole cat diabetes thing going on…
El Mog: You have to be kidding me. I’m only getting one can of stinky goodness per day because you believed some silly season ‘news’ story?
Bagelmouse: Tough crap. Lose the beer gut and then we’ll discuss it.
El Mog: Yeah, whatever, we’ll see how fast you cave when I Whine. All. Evening. Anyway, the thing I wanted to talk to you about?
Bagelmouse: Do continue.
El Mog: Earlier, when you opened the back door, you may have thought I was hiding behind the plant pot.
El Mog: Because there were three other cats in the garden.
El Mog: That was not as it seemed. That was a cat conference.
El Mog: We were gathered to discuss Important Cat Issues.
Bagelmouse: And that’s why you bolted inside, and I had to get the water pistol to splurt the black and white one in the face, is it?
El Mog: I am not going to live that down. I will vomit on your bed again tonight.
Bagelmouse: You fucking will not! Don’t you think two nights of sod all sleep, changing bedding and being woken up at 3am by you standing on my head to drink out of my glass of water – my glass of water – because apparently puking makes you thirsty and you don’t have three bowls of water around the house – oh no, actually you do – is quite enough?
El Mog: It’s not my fault. I have a hairball.
Bagelmouse: I’ll hairball you.
El Mog: I don’t know why you’re getting so angry. This is really just an argument you’re having with yourself, despite the attempt to project one side onto me in a, frankly, quite worringly anthropomorphic fashion.
El Mog: Certainly. Can I go out again now? I need to poo in your flowerbeds.