Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Momma Kat . . . PREGNANT?

Inquiring cats want to know . . . is Momma Kat pregnant? What does this mean for Bear? For Momma? Or is this just another opportunity for Bear to practice being dramatic?

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

BC: Are you pregnant?
{Momma splutters out the drink in her mouth}
MK: Excuse me?
BC: No wonder you can't get a date. Going around and spitting out drinks like that . . . how low class . . . we should get you a reality show. Of course, I'd be the star. You'd be the annoying sidekick.
MK: If I can't get a date, how can I be pregnant?
BC: I have no interest in the intricacies of your personal affairs.
MK: This from the cat that watches me take a shower, and watches me go to the bathroom, and pretty much watches everything else I do.
BC: Someone has to. Look! You're pregnant! You're clearly a danger to yourself.
MK: I did adopt you, didn't I?
BC: What's that supposed to mean?
MK: I must have missed the section of your model's instruction manual where it listed claws and fangs as included (and necessary) parts.
BC: I broke the mold!
MK: No kidding.
BC: So are you pregnant?
MK: Is this going to end with the punch line that I'm fat?
BC: Not this time . . . but I'll remember that for later.
MK: I can't wait. What would give you the idea that I'm pregnant?
BC: You were on the phone and told someone you had to go check on the bun in the oven.
MK: You mean the other night when I toasted my bun under the broiler in the oven?
BC: I can't keep track of all your misadventures.
MK: It was a hamburger bun - as in people food.
BC: So you think I'm not good enough for your food?
MK: No. I just feel better about not giving you any because there are any number of ingredients in people food that aren't good for cats.
BC: Well then, if it makes YOU feel better, by all means!
MK: You still manage to get a lick here and there anyway.
BC: Making me scrounge for my food and fight for any little scrap of food!
MK: Or you could visit your full food bowl.
BC: Details! Irrelevant! Besides, why would you toast a bun in the oven when we have a toaster?
MK: And what happened the last time I plugged the toaster in?
BC: How should I know? I have better things to do than follow you around.
MK: Right. I believe you stuck your paw in the toaster and got it stuck. Luckily, Momma got there just in time to catch the cat/toaster that was about to dive off the counter.
BC: That isn't what happened!
MK: Oh?
BC: Well, you weren't paying attention to me when I stuck my paw in there so I had to PRETEND to get it stuck. You came running! That means I win.
MK: Pretend, my butt! You had that panicked look in your eyes and you were FREAKING OUT.
BC: I'm a good actor, huh? Can you say 'REALITY SHOW?' I've got enough drama for TEN reality shows! 
MK: No doubt. So why haven't you stuck your paw in the toaster since then?
BC: Because you unplugged it! To make you jump I need to feign mortal danger. Unplugged toaster? NOT mortal danger. My paw "stuck" in the toaster? FEIGNED mortal danger. Piece of tape stuck in my fur? REAL mortal danger.
MK: You've thought this through thoroughly.
BC: It's my job. If you're not pregnant, why have you been looking at pink, girlie, princessy stuff online?
MK: Because Sarah's birthday is coming up and I'm trying to find a present. She LOVES princesses.
BC: That explains a lot. I thought your general "green" look after looking at all the pink, pretty, frilly things was morning sickness - now I know it's pink sickness. So there's no baby?
MK: No. Not that I'm aware of.
BC: Good. I don't do pink. And I don't share.
MK: Oh, Bear. A baby wouldn't replace my love for you!
BC: LOVE? Ha! I'm not sharing my food, my litter box, my cat tree, my toys, your toys, or your food with an annoyingly loud little person. The kid can have you. At least when I don't need your attention.
MK: How nice of you.
BC: I try to be fair.
MK: I'm pretty sure a baby would not be interested in any of those things though.
BC: OH! So now a theoretical baby is too good for my stuff?
MK: How come every time we have a conversation, I end up wanting to stab myself with a spoon? It'd be a lot less painful.
BC: It's not my fault you can't have a logical, coherent conversation. Of course it hurts you to think! And besides, no pain, no gain.
MK: I don't even know what to say anymore.
BC: SEE! You aren't capable of a decent conversation.
MK: I'm going to go lay down in the dark and hope my headache goes away.
BC: No. I'll still be here when you get up. Can I lay on your head - that way you'll be secure in knowing I'm not going to leave you?
MK: How kind.
BC: Clearly. You could learn a thing or two from me.


Are these pictures of Bear's future?


No comments:

Post a Comment