Conversations with the Cat

We’ve got a new housemate and I think this one’s going to stay awhile. She arrived as a skinny, scruffy cat from Morris Animal Shelter. My mom kept feeding her at all hours and now she’s fluffy. She’s not a normal cat. She won’t get off my mom’s bed, no matter what, except to use the litter box (thank goodness).

It’s been 5 months and now Moka has started blaming me, the resident dog, for everything. She’s an easy cat: we sleep side by side on my mom’s bed every night. One day I moved too fast and she gave me a gentle swat on the nose, which I totally ignored.

Moka’s also gotten very, very fussy. Here’s a recent conversation I overheard as my mom was leaving Moka’s food in the bedroom.

Moka: “This food is disgusting. How can you expect me to eat this? Even the dog wouldn’t touch it.”

Mom: It’s a high-quality nutritious cat food and costs a bundle…and you ate it yesterday.

Moka: I am going on strike. I will starve. You will be sorry.

Mom: I’m going out for a few hours. Enjoy!

Moka: You are a mean, cruel owner. I will ask the shelter to find me a new home with an owner who gives me nothing but Fancy Feast.

Mom: Good luck with that one.

Two hours later:

Mom: Moka, you ate every bit! This is wonderful.
Moka: No. The dog ate it.
Mom: You are in a room alone with the door closed. The dog can’t reach up and turn the knob.
Moka: The dog is very smart.
Mom: Moka, have you considered going into politics?

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