Thursday, August 27, 2015

Fire, Fishy Famine, and Frustration

Another wonderful day in the Momma Kat household! As usual, Bear is feeling neglected and unappreciated - and must show Momma who's the boss. Unfortunately, Bear is foiled once again by not being quite as tough as he pretends to be . . . and Momma keeps reminding herself that Bear IS cute, while barely hanging on to her sanity.

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat


Part I:
{Momma's sleeping in the bed; Bear jumps up and situates himself right in Momma's face}
BC: MEEEEEEOWWWWWW.
MK: Wha?
{Momma opens her eyes to Bear's face in her face}
MK: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
BC: I'm glad you're awake! It's an emergency!
MK: Is the house on fire?
BC: No. I want my treat.
MK: I already gave it to you today.
BC: Did not! Once you put out my plate, you leave it down until the next day. There is no plate on my mat. YOU DIDN'T FEED ME!
MK: That's because you licked the plate clean within 5 minutes and I was running the dishwasher, so I put it in.
BC: LIAR! LIAR! Pants on fire!
MK: Bear, I remember, because after you finished eating, you wanted me to pet you and you had fishy all over your chin.
BC: Irrelevant! I'm STARVING! MomMMMMMMMMaaaa!
MK: You're not getting another treat. If you're hungry, you have a full bowl of kibble.
BC: I hate you!
MK: You've only told me that ten times already today: when I brushed your teeth, when I made you come back inside, when I picked you up off the counter, when I clipped your claws, when I caught you trying to knock stuff in the toilet, when I turned my chair around just as you were about to sink your claws into the back of it . . .
BC: And just so you know: if your liar pants set the house on fire I wouldn't wake you up! Burn, baby, burn.
MK: Bear, your cat tree would be part of that. And your food. And your string. And all your micey. 
BC: No. You'd eventually wake up and I know you'd save them all before you saved yourself. Obviously!
MK: Bear, your cat tree weighs 65 pounds and is wedged between two couches - there's no . . . oh, never mind. I keep forgetting logic isn't part of your vocabulary.
BC: You'd let my cat tree burn?!?!?!?
MK: You'd let my house burn?
BC: That's not the same! I hate you!
MK: Eleven.
BC: Eleven what? Is that some evil "person" code?
MK: Yes.
BC: NO! Are we going to be infiltrated by locusts? The plague? GASP! No, a FISHY plague?!?!? What happens if there are no fishy?!?!? I'd starve!
MK: Bear, your kibble is made of turkey.
BC: Like I said, I'd starve! What would I eat with no fishy?
MK: Oh, Bear. Relax. Number eleven isn't the "code" for fishy famine. There's only one infiltrator in our midst.
BC: GASP! WHERE? Is it . . . . watching me?
BC: {whispering} Point in the direction of the infiltrator.
{Momma points at Bear}
BC: {whispering} It's . . . BEHIND me?
BC: {not whispering} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
{Bear runs under the bed}
MK: Life is never dull in the Momma Kat household.




Part II (the next day):
BC: PSSSSSSSTT!
MK: Where are you?
BC: That's classified information! How do I know you won't tell our little infiltrator where I'm lying in wait for him to show his evil face?
{Momma looks around}
MK: Hmmmm . . . you sure have an awesome hiding spot - I can't find you ANYwhere.
BC: My tail is hanging out the back of the bag again, isn't it?
MK: Ummm . . . actually, this time, it's your entire back half.
BC: Rats! I was hoping to swipe the infidel as he sashayed past my flap.

BC: If I come out, will you promise not to make any, "let the cat out of the bag," jokes?
MK: Okay.
BC: Is it safe for me to emerge?
MK: The only creature you have to fear is yourself.
BC: Why do you always talk in riddles? Is the infiltrator gone?
MK: No. Because I was referring to you as the infiltrator.
BC: Me? Now you tell me?!?!?! Madam, I am no infiltrator. It is YOU who encroaches on my property.
MK: I pay the bills.
BC: With MY money!
MK: Okay, fine. There's no point to arguing with you.
BC: Bear doesn't argue. He only speaks the truth.
MK: I know.
BC: You must be masochistic . . . always getting yourself into these situations you lose miserably.
MK: Who got his hind leg stuck in a jar of peanut butter? And who got his paw stuck in the toaster? Or should I mention the plastic bag handle that got caught on your body?
BC: I have no idea WHAT you're talking about.
MK: This?






BC: I thought I destroyed those photos!?!?!?
MK: Not before I scanned them into my computer.
BC: RATS! You tricked me. I hate you!
MK: And we are back to where we started.
BC: We are not. You are in the dog house. And you know how much I hate dogs . . . 
MK: Then who will feed you?
BC: You're allowed to come out to feed me . . . and to pet me . . . and to play with me . . . and to clean my litter box . . . RATS! You spend all of your time doing those things!
MK: I'm so glad you've noticed.
BC: I still hate you!


Note: Momma {and Bear} believe whole-heartedly in fire prevention and fire planning. In reality, fires are not a joke, as they kill many people and animals yearly. That is why Momma regularly tests her smoke detector and ensures her dryer vents are not blocked (one of the main causes of house fires). Also, Momma uses stickers on all her windows indicating that Bear is inside - to make sure emergency personnel are aware that a pet is present and must be rescued. And for those of you who read Momma Kat regularly, you probably recognize when Bear is being "Mr. Tough Pants," and sounding far more diabolical, confident, and mean than he really is; in reality, he's just trying to irritate Momma or get the best of her - to prove his superiority :)



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