"Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 12

Ever wonder about what conversations occur in the Momma Kat household?

Bear and I talk quite a bit - about a whole lot of random things. In this cycle, in an 
extended "conversation" deserving of its own blog post, we discussed Bear's newest "lawsut" against Momma {HERE}.

Other blog posts in this cycle, if you missed them, include a post about feline dental care {HERE} and a post about a chair, a towel, and a cat (with tons of pictures) {HERE}.

See the previous collections of shorter "conversations," like the ones posted below, {HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}, and {HERE}

Here's the collection of shorter dialogues from the past few weeks (previously posted to Momma Kat's Facebook page):

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

On minty-ness and fishiness:
BC: Your breath stinks! What did you eat?
MK: Nothing. I tried a different kind of minty toothpaste.
BC: Don't breathe on me!
MK: Says the cat with constant fishy breath.
BC: Thank you.
MK: That wasn't a compliment.
BC: You have minty-ness - which I can't stand; it only seems fair that my "breath-freshener" would not be palatable to you. Girl kitties swoon over my breath!
MK: When have you ever gotten close enough to a girl kitty for her to smell your breath?
BC: I . . . umm . . . I HATE YOU!

On sweatshirt season: 
BC: Take that! And this! Why aren't you howling in pain? This is not acceptable! This is an outrage! I must make you pay!
BC: Rats! It's sweatshirt season again! Those evil things mute my fury! I cannot teach you a lesson properly!
MK: 'Tis the season to annoy the cat and get away with it.
BC: How long until summer? Or you get a shower? I'll be waiting . . . . And if I'm sleeping, don't forget to wake me up!
MK: Right. Because I'm going to wake you up so you can attack me.
BC: Thank you.

On nighttime spiciness:
BC: Hey! Leave my cricket alone!
MK: If you want him, eat him.
BC: The timing is off! It has to be the perfect time!
BC: You almost hit me with the phone book!
MK: I did not. I was taking care of the cricket.
BC: Last time you caught him and took him outside.
MK: And then you got out and I had to drag you out of a bush. I wasn't amused.
BC: What do you have against crickets?
MK: They make noise and it's annoying.
BC: Oh. Poor, poor Momma Kat . . . Who needs complete silence to fall asleep . . . shall we also get you a nightlight? Maybe glow in the dark stars? Poor, poor you!
BC: BOR-RING! Let me spice up your night a little!
MK: Umm . . . no thanks. Caterwauling, hair balls, and random nighttime crazies are more than spicy enough. The house looks like a disaster area when I wake up.
BC: See? If you left me my cricket, he'd keep me entertained and I wouldn't have to "remodel" or "redecorate."
BC: You only live once. Unlike us cats who live nine times. BOO-YAH!

On boxes for Bear:
MK: Bear, why don't you at least TRY the box I set out?
BC: No.
MK: I made it extra cozy with blankets . . .
BC: No. You can't lure me into your contraption of evil.
MK: It's a box! With blankets! I keep thinking you're losing some essential experience of a happy cathood by not enjoying boxes!
BC: You're the expert on a happy cathood?
MK: But, CATS LOVE BOXES! I don't get it!
BC: You're the expert on cats now too?
MK: Well, no. But at least TRY the box. Here . . . I'll just leave it out for a week or so . . . and maybe you'll try it and like it.
BC: I doubt it. It's right next to your desk chair and you know how I like laying on your chair.
MK: I KNOW! Another reason to try the box!
BC: Another reason why I won't touch the box!
{Picture from Day Four - which is actually an improvement because for the first three days, Bear wouldn't go near the box}

On Momma's hipness:
BC: Yo, yo, YO, Momma K! What up in the kitch?
MK: Get down.
BC: I'm DOWN, my man! Way down! Gettin' down with the Momma K in the kitch!
MK: Off the counter.
MK: Please?
BC: Has anyone ever told you that you're not very hip? Besides, I'm not on the counter.
MK: You are too. I'm standing right in front of you.
BC: You have no proof.
MK: Here. I just took this picture. Proof.
BC: No! There was no flash!
MK: I turned it off.
BC: So now you're taking pictures of me unawares? I have to constantly worry that you're lurking around just WAITING for me to do something wrong?
MK: Fortunately, I never have to wait long.
BC: I demand compensation! Redress! I'VE BEEN SCREWED!
MK: Get down NOW! Or do you need assistance?
BC: No! NO! Don't touch me! Bear abuse! All you had to do was ask nicely!!!
MK: Bear, you can't scream "abuse" every time I do something you don't like. And funny, I could have sworn I did ask you nicely . . .

On Bear's masculinity: 
BC: MoooommmMA! How many times do I have to tell you? CATS DON'T DO KISSES!
MK: I can't help it . . . when you come find me and you're purring in that deep rolling way and your back is arched while I'm giving you back scratches, I'm just overwhelmed with love for you.
BC: What about my street cred? What?!?!? Why are you LAUGHING?!?!? I have street cred! STOP Laughing! Just because you're too stupid to fear me, doesn't mean others don't!
MK: Oh, Bear!
BC: Don't "oh, Bear" me! I rip the legs off of spiders! I whack stuff off the counters and tables that look at me funny! I'm ruthless with the carpet and furniture! Everything in this house fears me . . . but you.
MK: Have you told your shadow that?
BC: What do you mean?
MK: He seems to freak you out every so often.
BC: I don't know what you're talking about. Have you ever thought he's afraid of me? I see him jump and poof up too! I'm intimidating!
MK: Besides, I kiss you on the top of the head.
BC: Irrelevant! I have a name to protect! A street cred that causes lady kitties to swoon!
MK: Are you sure they aren't passing out from laughing so hard?
MK: Bear, every time you've had the chance to meet your girlfriend outside, you've hidden under the bed until the door was closed and locked. She even meowed nicely at you that one time and you flipped out, flew over my shoulder and pounded on the front door.
BC: Her meow told me how scared she was of me! I'm a gentleman and removed myself so she wouldn't be afraid. My raw masculinity is often overwhelming for the gentler sex.
MK: So that's why you only google-eye her through the window?
BC: Yes! I'm trying not to scare or overwhelm her.
MK: You don't think she'd be impressed that you are so secure in your manhood that you let your Momma kiss you?
BC: Phht. Like you understand manhood. Or cathood. Or street cred. Or being ruthless, brutal and feared by all.

On the million chicken shot:
MK: Bear! Your tail just poked me in the eye!
MK: Ummm . . .
BC: That will be one million whole chickens, please.
MK: Excuse me?
BC: You know in sports how they have a million dollar toss or million dollar shot?
MK: I guess . . .
BC: Well, poking you in the eye with my tail is MY million dollar shot. But I want chickens.
MK: No.
BC: One million dollars?
MK: Bear, I don't have a million dollars.
BC: One million cat treats?
MK: That's a horrible idea.
BC: But you get a million Kit Kats!
MK: I do not . . . oh. Still no.
BC: You're a mean ogre whose sole purpose in life is to steal all my fun since you have none of your own!
MK: Thus the million Kit Kats.
BC: I hate you!
MK: And you say I don't have fun!
BC: Oooooh! My hatred of you should not be fun! You should quake in my presence!
BC: One whole chicken?
MK: No. Though having a live chicken might up the fun factor for me.
BC: WHAT?!?!? Now I don't provide enough entertainment for you?
MK: Are you never NOT offended?
BC: No. I'm a cat. Offended is my job. You live. I'm offended. You don't live, I'm offended. You talk to me. I'm offended. You don't talk to me, I'm offended. The only time I'm not offended is when you feed me as much food as I want! Is that so hard?

On the desk chair wars (part 3):

MK: Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Every single time I get up from my desk chair, you take up residence!
BC: The chair is unoccupied.
MK: For 30 seconds! For 10 seconds! And I come back or turn around and THERE you are!
BC: There ARE other chairs in this house.
MK: Yes. But you're in the chair in front of the computer - where I need to be. I let you have the desk chair and move it to fit another chair in there and you viciously attack me! If I sit down in my desk chair - with you in it - you bite me viciously. I CAN'T WIN!
BC: Haven't I explained this before? You can't win. I win. All the time. Thank you (not really) for playing!
MK: I'd think you do it for attention and to keep me off the computer but when I try to pet you or play with you, you viciously attack me AGAIN!
BC: Haven't I explained that before? An inferior being, such as yourself, can never understand the mind of a superior being.
MK: NO! You're just fickle and you don't ever HAVE a reason! You're just an IRRATIONAL, furry TERRORIST!
BC: You just illustrated my point. But good (not really) try.
MK: You have a cat tree. You have multiple couches and beds. WHY WHY WHY????
BC: Because you don't want them either.
MK: That's not true! Instead of sleeping next to me in the bed, you now sleep in my desk chair!
BC: Incorrect. I only sleep there when you're looking. I don't really care about it the rest of the time.
BC: Your human irrationality is showing! CALM DOWN, WOMAN!
BC: Okay, okay. Forget I said that. You look vaguely caticidal . . . I'll just go hang out under the bed until you come back to your senses . . . or as sensible as you wacky, crazy humans can be.
BC: {just before running under the bed} IRRATIONAL!

On the desk chair wars (part 2):

MK: Bear! For real?!?!?!
BC: What's your problem now? Notice the emphasis on "your."
MK: That's my chair!
BC: It wasn't occupied.
MK: I got up and went to the bathroom. Which you knew, because you were in the bathroom with me . . . watching.
BC: And yet . . . I'm sitting in the chair.
MK: I had to wash my hands!
BC: My chair. There are plenty of others around here. Good luck.
BC: Wait! WHAT?!?!?! Bear does not share! No sharing! If I'm sitting here - you can't! This is an outrage! A miscarriage of justice! Discrimination! Oppression! Infringement! You should be ashamed of yourself! BEAR DOESN'T SHARE!
BC: I'll just go lay on the cold, hard floor since you're selfish and insist on sharing MY chair. It's not my fault you have an attitude problem! And a big butt! Without your big butt, you couldn't strong-paw me out of my chair!
MK: Right. Because I'M the one with the attitude problem. I'm willing to share.
BC: See! You admit it!

On the desk chair wars (part 1): 

BC: MommmmmMA! You promised you wouldn't take pictures this time! I just want to play! I hate starting and then having to stop so you can take twenty pictures! You prom-mmmmmissed!
MK: You stop to clean yourself all the time! What's the difference?
BC: Do I have to explain everything to you? I can interrupt my play at my leisure - but you cannot.
MK: I can't help it! You're just too cute when you play and all I think about is how other people should see the pictures and how I want to "save" you in pictures forever!
BC: Yeah. Yeah. When my ferocious hunter is directed at you, you don't find it cute!
MK: Would you rather I went back to petting you when you do the little pounce butt-wiggle because you're too cute?
BC: My butt wiggle is not a "little pounce:" it's preparation for a merciless and savage assault on my prey!
MK: Fine - would you rather I pet you when you do your preparation for a merciless and savage assault on your prey?
BC: NO! No petting! No pictures! What part of "ferocious hunter" don't you understand?!?!? Self-control, woman! I have to be ferocious. And hunt! And all this fawning girly stuff cramps my ruthless hunting style.
MK: Ruthless, huh?
BC: Oh, no your don't! Delete that picture right now! And the one of me licking my butt! What's wrong with you?
MK: I didn't know you'd be licking your butt - that was an accident.
BC: Delete. Now.
BC: And the other one.
MK: Noooo . . . I think it should go on our Facebook page . . . maybe with this picture of your "ferocious hunter" enjoying a bit of a belly rub during play time?
BC: I HATE YOU! And your little camera too! One of these days, I'm going to figure out how to use the idiot camera and make you pay by posting all kinds of embarrassing pictures of you!

On Bear's dreams of attaining black cat status:
BC: Momma! Guess what?
MK: What, Bear?
BC: Look at me! Can you tell?
MK: You're very handsome . . .
BC: That's not new!
MK: Your fur is shiny.
BC: NOT new!
MK: Tell me.
BC: I can't believe you don't see it!
MK: What?
BC: I think more of my fur is black!
MK: How did you reach this conclusion?
BC: Well, you know I pay close attention to the fur I lose . . . I have to always be on guard for fur thieves . . . and it seems like more of the fur on the places I go is black! I'm FINALLY turning into a black cat! That's been my only wish since I've been 1!
MK: Maybe only your black fur is falling out.
BC: {GASP} Nooooo. I need my racing stripe down my back! It makes me look fierce! Don't I LOOK like I have more black fur?
MK: Ummmm . . . sure.
BC: I KNEW IT! I'm going to be a black cat before my 10th birthday!

On multi-tasking:
BC: Take that CHUMP!
MK: What the ?!?!?
BC: Momma!! Look!
MK: You caught a moth?
BC: {Strutting around with pride and a puffed out chest} Yes! Aren't I FIERCE? No Lepidoptera gets by me! Not in MY house! I'll bring him out of the sky . . . SMACK DOWN style.
MK: Are you going to eat him?
BC: No. He tastes nasty.
MK: So you're just going to parade around the house for the rest of the night with him in your mouth?
BC: I have pride in my cracker ninja skills! And check out my prey!
MK: But he gets away and you almost lose him!
BC: Must I explain EVERYTHING to you? I get to take him down again and again!
MK: Okay. But that's not really nice. Either eat him or give him to me . . . we don't torture living things in this house.
BC: Nice? Cats aren't NICE! I'm showing him what's UP! Respect the Bear Cat or perish!
MK: Thank you for being such a ferocious hunter . . . I'm very impressed with your smack down moves. And thank you for protecting me from the evil moth. May I have him?
BC: Yes. When there's only you to strut around for with my prey in my mouth, it's kind of anti-climactic.
MK: You paraded him all over the house for a good fifteen minutes . . . that's not bad.
BC: I have pride!
MK: I love you, Mr. Tough Guy.
BC: I love you too, Momma.

ps - Just in case there's any doubt about the veracity of this story . . . Bear can, in fact, hold a moth in his mouth and meow to get my attention/show me at the same time (meanwhile strutting around). He usually doesn't multi-task, but this is an exception.

On savagery and civilization: 
After sharing my life with Bear for 9 years, you'd think I'd be past the point of being surprised . . .
Many of you have read the rosebush chronicles (Bear hiding in the rosebush so he doesn't have to come inside - because I can't reach him back there) . . .
Tonight he went right to the rosebush . . . so I firmed up my resolve and squashed my panic over what he might get into if I let him be for awhile (I know Bear too well . . . he's like a magnet to trouble - can't resist - doesn't bother to think of consequences) . . . and put away my groceries . . .
After maybe 5 minutes (when I was done), I opened the screen door and said, "Bear! Inside!" with probably little conviction because I know Bear . . . and I was about to put my shoes back on to go out and corral him, but he came trotting inside like it was nothing.
Of course, he got lots of treats. Momma's a sucker. S-U-C-K-E-R. And Momma falls in love with Bear all over again. Just when you think you can't love the little guy any more . . .
And no, I doubt this will EVER happen again. But I appreciate the little things . . .
And I love my Bear Cat . . . even at his peak of obnoxiousness (which will probably happen around the time Momma goes to bed - obviously).

Then the truth comes out . . .
MK: Thank you for coming in when I called you.
BC: You called me?
MK: Ummm . . . yeah, I opened the door and said, "Bear! Inside!"
BC: I didn't hear that.
MK: And I appreciated that I didn't have to come and drag you out of the rosebush.
BC: I only came inside because I had to use the litter box.
MK: But you haven't used the litter box since coming inside . . .
BC: You distracted me by THREE TIMES the usual cat snax . . . or is that cat snaxxx?!?!
MK: You also could have gone in the garden - for old times sake, right? The world was your litter box for the homeless first 8 months of your life.
BC: That's uncivilized! I pride myself on my tamed . . . NO! . . . domesticated . . . NO! . . . err . . . CULTIVATED nature. CULTIVATED kitties do their business in the litter box only. Only SAVAGES use the outside.
MK: Savages?
BC: Obviously.
MK: Do you require little kitty napkins to wipe your paws too? Perhaps I could serve your food on little silver trays?
BC: Ohhh . . . that'd be . . .
BC: I hate you!
MK: So you really didn't hear me?
BC: So THAT'S why you gave me triple the number of treats as usual? You thought I dogged? Ha-ha-ha-ha . . . oh.

On kinkiness: 
BC: Why are you walking around like that with your shoulder attached to your ear?
MK: My back is all kinky.
BC: Never mind. I don't want to know.
MK: What?
BC: I don't want to know about your iniquitous activities.
MK: No - I mean there are kinks all over my back.
BC: La la la la la. Not listening . . .
MK: Last time I checked, you were clueless about how kittens are made and now you're freaking out at the word kinky?
BC: I don't want to know!
MK: My back is kinky because . . .
MK: Of you.
BC: Don't implicate me in your wickedness! My poor innocent kitty mind . . .
MK: Bear - we snuggled for over four hours and my neck was all twisted and I lost feeling in most of my body.
BC: And that's my problem how?
MK: I didn't say it was - I'm just pointing out that nothing immoral happened . . . instead, my back is messed up because I enjoyed cuddling with you so much, I didn't move.
BC: I want everyone to know that I don't condone your depravity.
MK: There is no depravity! I just enjoy snuggling with you!!!
BC: Oh. Why didn't you say that before? By the way, next time we snuggle . . . say in 15 minutes . . . I require more ear rubs. Don't be late. Bear doesn't wait . . .

On the hair in Bear's food: 
BC: Momma? MooommmMMaaa! There's a hair in my food!
MK: Okay.
BC: After careful analysis, I've come to the conclusion that it's NOT mine!
MK: Careful analysis?
BC: The hair isn't pretty.
MK: Bear, I eat your hair all the time . . . it's EVERYWHERE.
BC: You EAT my fur? Is that what you do with the fur you collect while brushing me?!?!?!
MK: Oh, for the love of packing peanuts! I meant your fur manages to find its way into my food all the time and I don't make a big deal about it.
MK: What?
BC: Purrrrrrrr . . . PURRRRRRRRR. You're not . . . PURRRR . . . allowed . . . PURRRR . . . to touch . . . PURRRR . . . me. {sigh} I HATE . . . PURRRRRR . . . YOU!
MK: The hair is out of your food. Happy?
BC: NO! You stopped petting me! PET ME!
MK: I love you, Bear.
BC: Why aren't you petting me?
MK: Oh, my head . . .

On owning Bear's mousie:
BC: Momma! Momma! Look! I'm owning this mousie!
MK: Yes, you are. Maybe I should call you the Mousie Ninja from now on?
BC: Maybe add "boss," because I am THE BOSS of my mousie.
MK: Mousie Ninja Boss?
BC: Yep. Did you see how he slammed into the wall?
MK: Yes. And you didn't let anything get in your way! Not the lamp, not the blinds . . . you took all them out too!
BC: That's because I'm BAD . . . to the bone.
MK: You scare me!
BC: Really? Because you seem to look at me ironically . . .
MK: Of course! I'm scared!
BC: Then I do my job well! Maybe I can get some back scratches to show your appreciation? And a few ear rubs?
MK: I love you, Mousie Ninja Boss.
BC: I love you too, Momma.

On genetics: 
BC: So some cats are polydactyl and have thumbs?
MK: Were you on the internet after I specifically grounded you from the internet?
BC: No . . . I read it in one of your cat books . . . yeah, you have like 10, I'm sure it's in one of them!
MK: I don't think so. Those are the few books on my shelves I've actually read, but I don't remember anything about polydactyls.
BC: So some cats have thumbs?
MK: Nice avoidance. Yes, some cats have thumbs.
BC: I'VE BEEN SCREWED! First, I didn't get to be a black cat and NOW I find out thumbs weren't ordered on my menu. You botched the order for me!
MK: I didn't "order" you, you pain in the ass. It's genetics and completely beyond our control.
BC: Oh. So you mean you didn't choose to look pregnant all the time like you constantly mutter under your breath every time you look in the mirror?
MK: No, my fat distribution is genetics.
BC: I just thought you were fat!
MK: Well, that too. You sure know how to make a girl feel better.
BC: I wasn't trying to make you feel better!
BC: Oh. It was that sarcasm thing again, wasn't it?
MK: I love you, Bear.
BC: Wait? What? I tell you you're fat and you tell my you love me? What's wrong with you?!?!?
MK: No. Your eagerness and enthusiasm are cute: you get so caught up in responding and being you that you miss little nuances in conversations (like sarcasm). That's why there's often a {Pause} in our conversations where you finally stop to think. I wish I thought less.
BC: I think! I think a lot! How dare you say I don't think! I think all the time! I think better than you! I think longer than you!
MK: You think longer? Sounds like you require extra processing time . . .
BC: Shut up! I meant more! NO! I mean . . .
BC: I hate you!

If you missed the blog post on Bear losing his internet privileges, you can find it {HERE}.

On booty calls:
BC: Momma? Did you hear the phone ring?
MK: No. And there aren't any messages on the answering machine. Why?
BC: Because a little birdie told me that I missed her booty call. Is that a special kind of call?
MK: Does this "birdie" live in my spam mailbox?
BC: No! I'm not allowed on the internet!
BC: I was checking my fan e-mail.
MK: Bear, for the love of monkey muffins, spam isn't fan mail! If the people are even real, they just want to take advantage of you.
BC: If the chick is pretty, she can take advantage of me any time. Hey-heeey!
MK: Oh, my head.
BC: So what's a booty?
MK: Another name for a butt.
BC: Then what's a booty call? Is that like farting?
MK: Umm . . . sure.
BC: Hey, Momma! Do you hear my booty call?
MK: Oh no.
BC: I'm booty calling you!
BC: My booty is still calling you! Pick up! You know you want some booty calling! Can you hear me? Can you hear me now?
MK: The line is busy.
BC: RATS! I'll take my booty call elsewhere!

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