"Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 16

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 extended "conversations" deserving of their own blog posts, we discussed: Celebrating the New Year {HERE}, Bear's boredom while Momma's sick {HERE} and the similarities between Bear and a pop "tart" {HERE}.  

See the previous collections of shorter "conversations," like the ones posted below: {HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{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 cat logic:
BC: Do you MIND?!?! I'm SLEEPING!
MK: Excuse me?
BC: I was sleeping in here! You turned the light on and made noise!
MK: I'm putting laundry away!
BC: I was sleeping!
MK: If I limited my active time to the times you're awake I'd get nothing done! Especially since you spend 95% of your active time pestering me by a variety of means including staring at me, causing trouble, and putting your nose in everything.
MK: And I was tip-toeing and being as quiet as I could.
BC: You sound like a herd of elephants. And there was a GIANT THUNK!
MK: Well, yes, I walked into the wall.
BC: I missed it? Do it again! Do it again! I want to see!
MK: It was an accident.
BC: Even better! The look on your face!
MK: I'm not here for your entertainment.
BC: Party pooper!
MK: Fine. How about you repeat when you fell out of your cat tree last night because the heat turned on. You were all poofed up.
BC: That DID NOT happen. Please turn out the light and vamoose.
MK: And while we're on the subject . . . how come I have to tip-toe around and I can't accidentally wake you up, but you have no problem using me as a jungle gym, a balance beam, AND a trampoline while I sleep?
BC: I have needs!
MK: Oh! And you have no problem staring at me while I eat . . . but if I sat down by your food bowl and stared at you, you'd get all paranoid and flip out?
BC: Because watching me eat is all you have to do with your life?
MK: AND! You have no problem watching me in the bathroom, but if I accidentally catch you in the litter box, you act like you hear voices that tell you I'm coming to kill you.
BC: How do you know about those?
BC: Man are YOU grumpy! This conversation is over. Please turn out the light and vamoose.
MK: How convenient . . . for YOU. ONCE AGAIN.

On the kibble stockpile, part 1:
BC: More food?

MK: No, it's kibble.
BC: As I said, food.
BC: RATS! You tricked me AGAIN into admitting kibble is food.
BC: The implications of this stockpile of kibble are disturbing.
MK: Or maybe it's been on sale?
BC: Yeah, yeah, there's that. But you could be planning to adopt a whole clowder of cats!
MK: Hmmmm . . . . that's a FANTASTIC idea! You're right, I should adopt AT LEAST one more cat!
BC: That's unacceptable! Bear doesn't share! Not with one cat and not with a clowder. I'm an only child! No, no, NO, NO!!!!!
MK: Maybe a black cat?
BC: That'd be cruel! I'd live day to day with a reminder of what I want more than anything but I'll never be!
MK: I'm just teasing you, Bear. You know you're super handsome and even more beautiful on the inside . . . black cat or not.
BC: Obviously.
MK: Plus, you're more than enough cat for me.
BC: Thanks!
BC: Wait a minute! What did you mean by that?

On the kibble stockpile, part 2:
BC: I've figured it out!!!
MK: Figured what out?
BC: Why you've bought so much kibble!
MK: Because it being on sale isn't a good enough reason?
BC: {narrowing his eyes} You're stockpiling for the alien apocalypse.
MK: Bear . . .
BC: NO! It gets worse! You've been working with them all along! That's how you KNOW they're coming. Oh woe! I never took the voices seriously, but alas, they are finally coming for me.
MK: You mean the voices you hear when you get the crazies?
BC: So you KNOW about them!
MK: Only because you've told me.
BC: How much do they pay you to betray all cat-kind?
MK: Bear, if I thought aliens would abduct you, why would I buy more kibble? What would I do with it after you're gone?
BC: Oh. Wait a minute . . . you are buying it for them! So they can keep me alive and torture my vast knowledge out of me. That's even WORSE than I expected! It means they don't have kibble on their planet . . . which means I am the only cat they are after! I KNEW my infinite intelligence would be a liability one day!
BC: NO! You'll need the kibble when you adopt another cat! You're the sole provider of cats to the aliens! One after another, you heartlessly feed us into the alien machine!
MK: Because aliens don't have enough problems so they travel the universe to find more?
BC: Are you suggesting cats are a problem?
MK: There are NO aliens. And I certainly wouldn't let anyone hurt you.
BC: {sniff} I don't believe you. You're on notice . . . I'm keeping my eyes and ears on you . . . and you won't get away with this!
MK: Ear rubs?
BC: I thought you'd never offer!
MK: It's been five minutes since the last ones I gave you.
BC: I KNOW! Now you see the problem!

On the kibble stockpile, part 3:
MK: Why are you looking at me like that?
BC: I'm still trying to determine why you've brought home three times my weight worth of kibble in the last month . . .
MK: Because there's always a conspiracy and it couldn't just be really good sales?
BC: Hmph. I'm a cat. I'm not stupid.
BC: {GASP} You're going to stop giving me a wet food treat! You know I'll have to eat more kibble. You won't get away with this! I will make you pay!
MK: Don't be ridiculous: I learned my lesson the last five times I've tried to wean you off wet food. Not only are you grumpy, but you're as persistent as all get out and drive me nuts.
BC: You want me to get out? What will you do with all that kibble?
MK: That was a figure of speech. You're stuck with me.
MK: The only reason I started feeding you wet food is because you annoyed the hell out of Kitty when she got hers. I needed her to eat something right after her insulin shot and you'd sit an inch away and stare at her until she let you have hers. Unfortunately, trying to distract you with your own didn't work either . . . you'd scarf yours down and you'd be back for hers within a minute. And I couldn't close the door so she'd be left alone because you'd caterwaul and tear up carpet no matter how much I distracted you. You ripped up a good foot of carpet outside the door to the room of her favorite spot. Drove me crazy.
BC: It's only fair that I should get some too!
MK: No. Then you ate YOURS AND HERS. And I haven't been able to get you off it since - even though she died ten years ago. I have to admit, I can't do anything but admire your persistence. Every single time I've tried to wean you off the wet food, you've followed me around everywhere until I gave in. I don't think you slept at all. You sat there just looking at me - even when I was sleeping. I'm stubborn - VERY, VERY stubborn - but that was one you won paws down. There's only so much following and staring my nervous disposition can take. I don't think I've made it much longer than 24 hours. Sure, people say to wait it out - but I'm telling you, they've never met YOU.
BC: Their loss.
MK: Obviously. And besides . . . I have a stockpile of wet food too.
BC: You haven't been feeding me enough! That's why you have so much! I KNEW you were trying to starve me!
MK: Oh, Bear . . .
BC: {GASP} You want me to eat tons of kibble!
MK: Okay . . .
BC: You say my kibble gives me a shiny coat . . . you really ARE after my fur! You think the more kibble I eat, the shinier my coat will be! So you can STEAL it and wear it and pass it off as your own!
MK: Oh, Bear . . . you are one-of-a-kind . . . only YOU could explain something by accusing me of starving you AND stuffing you in the same conversation.
BC: You're human! You're not supposed to make sense!

MK: And yet, I don't think that's the problem here.

On Bear's "diet:"

BC: You're not feeding me enough!
MK: You weigh over thirteen and a half pounds, Bear.
BC: Yes. But a year ago, I weighed FOURTEEN and a half pounds.
MK: If you'll remember, because of your weight, the vet suggested I switch you to diet food a couple years in a row. This year, when we saw him in November, he was pleased.
BC: You feed me DIET food? I'VE BEEN SCREWED!
MK: No. I didn't switch you.
BC: So you ignored the vet's advice?
MK: Is that a problem? Because I COULD switch you to diet food.
BC: NO! My point is that you listen to the vet when it's convenient for you.
MK: Over a year ago, I DID switch you to kibble with smaller pieces and higher protein - plus, I make sure we play every day. I decided only to switch you to diet as a last resort. You'd think you'd be pleased.
BC: And he specifically asked you, "You're certain he's not missing any meals?"
MK: No, that was a statement. I asked if I should be worried, and he said, "He's certainly not missing any meals." Period. They did blood tests too, so we know it's not diabetes.
BC: No. I'm SCREWED! I've been missing meals!
MK: Then it's by your choice, because you free-feed and your bowl is always full.
BC: It is NOT!
MK: You always have more than enough kibble in your bowl.
BC: You're trying to starve me! My bowl was almost empty this morning!
MK: It was half full.
BC: As I said, almost empty! HALF empty!
MK: And you get the same-sized wet food treat every day.
BC: Then I'm not getting enough treats from a bag!
MK: If you just wanted treats, why didn't you just start with that instead of going through this whole argument?
BC: Would that make a difference?
MK: No.
BC: I hate you!
BC: Can I have treats?
MK: No. I'm pretty sure you'd prefer less treats with non-diet food, than to get more treats and require diet food.
BC: I hate you and your fake reasonableness! And my fake food kibble!

On food demands and destruction:

BC: I'm going to rip up your chair if you don't feed me RIGHT NOW.
MK: Okay.
BC: Here I go! I'm lifting my paw . . . pulling out my claws . . . making contact with the fabric . . .
MK: Have fun.
BC: Wait! WHAT!?!?!?
MK: Have fun.
BC: No, no, NO, NO, NO! This is NOT acceptable! You must give in to my demands!
MK: Says who?
BC: Says ME! I'm the boss! I wear the pants! And I want my food NOW! NOW! Now! NOW!
MK: A temper tantrum? How original.
BC: I hate you!
MK: Yes, well, I've learned that while I might prevent you from ripping up the chair BEFORE your food, you'll rip it up afterward anyway. Before or after? Not much difference.

BC: HMPH! . . . I've never been so insulted . . . in any of my nine lives! I'm going to . . . umm . . . do something . . . to show you just how MAD I am! It will be really, ummm . . . bad! Yes, really BAD!
MK: I'm pretty sure you've maxed out your bad-ness by now. There are very few things you haven't done.
BC: I HATE YOU! Everything always has to be YOUR way! You walk around here yelling, "I'm the boss!" And being mad when I don't meet your ridiculous demands!
MK: Who are you describing again?
BC: I hate you!
BC: I demand you feed me RIGHT NOW!
BC: Please?
MK: You're adorable and irresistible, but I fed you your wet food treat an hour ago.
BC: Liar!
MK: No, you forgot. You were so intent on getting out of having your teeth brushed that you hid in the corner under your cat tree where I can't reach you. I'm guessing you forgot WHY you were hiding . . . go look . . . your wet food treat is already waiting for you.
BC: Liar! You just don't want to feed me . . .

Left picture: Bear scrunched up in the back of his corner, underneath his cat tree . . . because he thinks I'll forget to brush his teeth . . . no such luck. Momma has amazing patience and he always comes out eventually (for his wet food treat).
Right picture: You can see the cat tree set up, bordered by the wall on two sides, and a couch and loveseat on the others. So when Bear scrunches up back in the corner, it's nearly impossible to reach him . . . though Momma's been known to reach back there and try to herd him out. He seems to think I CAN reach him, because he usually runs out toward another hiding spot. Don't tell Bear I really can't reach him - he'd never come out.

On Bear's great new hiding spot:
BC: You didn't brush my teeth!
MK: I know.
BC: Haha! You couldn't find me!
MK: Bear, you were laying in the middle of my bed.
BC: Wasn't that a GREAT hiding spot?
MK: I just . . . give you a day off . . .
MK: Never mind, it's an EXCELLENT hiding spot! Much better than UNDER the bed or scrunched back in the corner under your cat tree.
BC: I thought so! And you didn't brush my teeth! And I STILL got my fishy snacks!
MK: You should hide there tomorrow!
BC: Wait a . . .
BC: RATS! If you know in advance, you'll find me!
MK: Know what?
BC: Where I'm . . . stupid HUMAN! Hahaha. You make it TOO easy to outsmart you! I thank the kitty gods every day for your memory deficits!
MK: What are we talking about?
MK: {to herself} He makes it SOOO easy sometimes! I actually feel guilty for taking advantage . . . then I look at the s
cars on my arms . . . and STILL feel guilty!

Momma's Note: Despite evidence to the contrary, Bear believes his rare days off from having his teeth brushed are due to his extraordinary cleverness instead of due to Momma's whim. I guess it doesn't hurt him to let him think he gets away with it every so often, though if he were being honest with himself, he'd recognize that I never let his reticence, ability to cram himself in tiny spaces, or his liberal use of his fangs and claws deter me from doing what needs to be done - even if that means dragging him out of tiny spaces, chasing him in circles, or contorting myself in seemingly impossible ways to reach him. Bear is stubborn, but Momma even more so. Poor, poor Bear.

On being HAND-SOME:
BC: Look at that HAND-SOME boy! MROW!
MK: Oh, no. Not again.
BC: You're TOO sexy. Waaaaaaaay too sexy! Look at that butt!
BC: Momma? MOMMA?!?! MommmmmMMA! Come look at this handsome kitty!
BC: AHHH! ARRRG! I told you to stop sneaking up on me when I'm admiring myself in the mirror! All of a sudden, amidst all the adorable handsomeness I see ugly ogre!
MK: At least you didn't fall off the counter this time . . . last time, you almost landed in the toilet.
BC: Hmph. You haven't said it yet!
MK: You are handsome.
BC: H. A. N. D. S. O. M. E. If I were a girl kitty, I'd totally want to have kittens with myself.
BC: HEY! I saw you roll your eyes in the mirror!
BC: Oh, yes. Work it! WORK it!
MK: Looks like you've got it covered in here.
BC: Say it again before you leave!
MK: You are HAND-SOME!
BC: I know! And I never get tired of hearing it!
BC: I saw your ugly ogre face roll your eyes again! We'll discuss that later!
MK: Thanks for the warning. I'll make sure to check my shoes before I put them on.
BC: Ohhhhhh. But who's that HAND-SOME boy?!?!

For more on Bear's pride in his appearance (and his showmanship): Kitty Diva or Pop "Tart?"

On tossed fishy:
BC: There's a problem in the other room.
MK: A problem?
BC: You should go check on it.
MK: Do you just want my chair?
BC: Of course not! You told me you'd prefer a warning when I've tossed my fishy.
BC: I've tossed my fishy.
{Momma walks down the hallway and looks around}
MK: Where?
MK: Bear? BEAR?!?!
{Momma walks back to her desk chair to find it occupied}
BC: Do you mind? I'm trying to NAP!
MK: Like I was trying to work?
BC: Whatever. I'm not moving.
MK: Fishy snacks?
BC: Oh! OH! Where?!?!?
{Bear runs to his food bowl}
BC: RATS! You don't joke about cat snacks!
MK: You don't joke about barfing!


Bear shamelessly steals Momma's chair.

On the dishwasher:

{Bear sits in the kitchen, on the counter above the dishwasher}
BC: Is the dishwasher done yet?
MK: I think it's drying.
BC: I think it just stopped!
MK: No, it's silent on dry.
MK: Bear, it doesn't matter when you get your food bowl back because all the food that is on your mat right now will just go in the bowl. No new food.
BC: I'm STARVING! Is it done now?
MK: No. And there's plenty of kibble on your mat! When you have a bowl of kibble, you paw it out of the bowl onto your mat before you eat it. Just having the kibble on your mat saves you a step. If you're hungry - eat the kibble on your mat!
BC: How do you know it's not done? You didn't get up to see if the "Completed" light is on!
MK: Is it on?
BC: No.
{Ten minutes pass}
BC: I'm DYING of hunger! Is it done yet?
MK: Yes.
{Momma gets out Bear's food bowl and fills it with the kibble left out on the mat}
BC: Where's my food?
MK: In your bowl.
BC: NO! The NEW food.
MK: I told you there wouldn't be any.
BC: No you didn't! I'VE BEEN SCREWED!
MK: Oh for crying . . .
BC: You're telling me you've brought home 8 bags of treats in the past week and you can't spare me a few? Treat miser!
MK: You get a wet food treat every day, Bear.
BC: But not the bagged treats!
MK: They're special.
BC: I'M special!!!

MK: Why don't you go look in your bowl?
BC: Wha??? TREATS!
MK: Maybe if you talked less and looked more you'd have found them five minutes ago.
BC: Nomnomnomnomnomnomnom.

Bear holds vigil for when the dishwasher is done.

On Momma's "ick-ness:"
MK: I'mb ick!
BC: Ick?
MK: Thick!
MK: Ssssick!
BC: No. You said "ick!" Haha! You're ick!
BC: And thick! You're thick! The holiday season was definitely "good" to you! Not that I mind the extra padding . . . you were too bony before!
MK: Ith don'd thfeel so goog.
BC: Ick goog! This new language is cool! Teach me!
MK: Thnot ath thnew . . . THRATS!
BC: Hahaha! I love this! Say something else!
MK: Inthead ofth thauging, youth couth thuggle!
MK: Tuggle! . . . . Sssssnuggle!
BC: Giggle, giggle, SNORT. Giggle, giggle.
MK: Ighth hayth thu!
MK: Stoth thauging!
{Bear dissolves into uncontrollable giggles}
BC: More! MORE!
MK: Uuuuurg!
BC: Maybe if you hadn't spent the day in bed, you could talk normally!
MK: I'mb ick! Thneber thighnd!
{Bear dissolves into uncontrollable giggles, again.}

On boredom (On Momma's "ick-ness" - part 2):
BC: MommmmmmmmMaaa! I'm bored!
MK: I'm sorry, Bear. I don't feel good, but I promise we'll play lots when I feel better.
BC: Can I have some fishy snacks?
MK: No. You already had your treat. And since we're not playing . . .
BC: I've been screwed! DOUBLE screwed!
MK: But you've spent all day snuggled next to me in bed! What's better than that?
BC: Talk about torture! You snore - even worse when you're sick! And you always have to turn like a pancake so I have to resettle.
BC: Fffffffine. I GUESS I can admit . . .
BC: I have gas. Did you notice?
MK: Lucky for me, I'm so stuffed up that I can't smell.
BC: And I love snuggling with you. But don't let that go to your big stuffed up, non-smelling head!
MK: I wouldn't dream of it. I love you, Bear.
BC: Yeah, yeah. You already got your concession for the day . . . don't push it!
MK: More snuggles?
BC: {dramatic sigh} If it makes you feel better . . . oh the sacrifices I must make for your well-being!
MK: Ear rubs?
BC: If it will make you feel better for screwing me out of playing and fishy treats . . .
MK: Well . . . if you don't like them . . .
BC: No, no! I'm good. Keep rubbing my ears! Please!
MK: Poor, poor Bear.
For more on Bear's boredom and Momma's sickness: When Momma's Sick . . . and Bear's Bored

On the alien invasion (aka New Year's Eve):
BC: AHHHH! They're coming for me! They're coming for me! Hold me! I'm scared! No! HIDE me! They won't take me alive!
MK: What the HECK are you talking about?
BC: All those booms! The aliens are coming for me! They've invaded the Earth!
MK: What aliens?
BC: The ones that talk to and threaten me when I have the crazies. DUH! They've always said they'll come for me, but I didn't believe them! OH, WOE! It was a nice life! Well . . . mostly. You might learn a thing or two . . .
BC: I'm dying! Ddddddyyyyyying! Bye, Momma! I guess you were okay in the end!
MK: BEAR! Breathe!
BC: Don't tell me to BREATHE! Is that some kind of cruel joke? Aliens are out to kill me! I can't breathe if I'm dead!
MK: All those booms are celebratory.
BC: WHAT? The world is so cruel as to celebrate the alien invasion that will rid this planet of cats?!?!?
BC: TRAITOR! You KNEW! And you didn't warn me!
MK: Bear, it's the celebration of the new year . . . 2016.
BC: The new . . .
BC: PHHT. I KNEW THAT! But do you think you could keep it down? I was napping!
MK: I'm not making any noise.
BC: But surely you are in charge of the festivities!
MK: Suuuuure. One . . . two . . . three! Booms be gone! POOF!
BC: Whooooooooooa! Thank you!
MK: I didn't . . . for new years, the booms are just for a few . . . oh, never mind.
BC: Less talking and more napping . . . unless you feel like fooding?
For more on New Year's: "Celebrating" the New Year

On the stranger:
BC: AHHHHHHHHHHH! WHO are YOU! You don't live here! AHHHHH! Stranger danger! I'm not allowed to talk to strange people!
BC: Whoa! My Momma's strange though, and I talk to her . . . Plus, my Momma told me not to take treats from strangers!
BC: Scratch that! I'll take the treats! But if you hurt me, my Momma will hunt you down and beat you up!
BC: Or you could wait until she gets home and take her for ransom!
BC: RATS! But you have to open a few cans of cat food and scoop my litter box before you take her!
BC: No! No! Don't touch me! I'm just a cute little kitty cat! I don't even have fangs or claws! I'm completely defenseless!
BC: And cute! I'm cute! Please don't kill me!
MK: Haha. Very funny, Bear.
BC: Oh. It's just YOU! What a disappointment. I was hoping to use my ninja skills!
MK: You know once a year my brother's family comes into town and I spend a couple whole day-times away. I'm here the other 363 days a year.
BC: NO! You visit them sometimes too!
MK: I didn't realize I had to be exact.
BC: You left me for WEEKS all alone . . . Aw, hell . . .
BC: That shows you!
MK: Yes. That when I come home from being gone all day, you'll attack me. And that even cute, little kitty cats are dangerous, even when they claim to be defenseless. And that you have no conception of the time difference between hours and days.
BC: Or you could just never leave.
BC: RATS! I don't NEED you!

On towels and cold tile:
BC: Momma?
MK: Yes, Bear?
BC: I'm thankful for you.
MK: I'm thankful for you, too! My life would really suck without you.
BC: You're telling me! You have no life WITH me . . . so . . . oh, right.
BC: Ahem. It makes me feel loved and wanted when you put a towel down on the bathroom tile so I can sit in there while you're in there without my paws getting cold on the cold tile.
MK: I like having you with me . . . even though your staring is slightly disconcerting.
BC: I have to make sure you're okay.
MK: I love you, Bear.
BC: I love you, Momma.

On Flying neck crickets:
When Momma realizes it's just easier to go with Bear's understanding, than to explain it to him . . .

MK: Tarnation! I have the most ginormous crick; it's in my neck!
BC: REALLY? WOW! That is soooo cool! Can I see?
MK: There's nothing to see.
BC: What do you mean? The crickets are invisible? Are they also silent crickets? Because I don't hear anything!
MK: Wait, what?
BC: You said "I have the most ginormous crickets in my neck!" How do you even get crickets in your neck? Though I'm assuming if there's a way, you'd find it!
MK: No, I meant . . . oh, never mind. Voila! The crickets are out of my neck!
BC: I KNEW you were a witch! Where are they? I want one! I've never stalked a neck cricket before!
MK: They flew away.
BC: Whoa! Flying neck crickets?!?!? I think I'll add them to my wish list!
MK: Lovely. Though it does sound like a band name.

No comments

If you have trouble posting a comment, please let us know by e-mail: cats@mommakatandherbearcat.com. THANK YOU FOR STOPPING BY!