Sunday, February 28, 2016

"Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 18

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 what Bear does while Momma sleeps {HERE}.

The other blog posts in this cycle, if you missed them:
*** What Would Your Cat's Life Be Like?: Ideally, you'll live long enough to provide for your cat as you see fit. But what if you don't? No one wants to think about his death, but most parents of human children recognize the need to state their wishes about care of their children after their deaths. Our fur babies should be no different.
*** DramaCat vs. DiaboliCat: Momma's speculations about what goes on in Bear's head.

See the previous collections of shorter "conversations," like the ones posted belowPart 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, and Part 17.

Here's the collection of shorter dialogues from the past three weeks (previously posted to Momma Kat's Facebook page; below, in order from most recent to oldest):

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

On Bear's molar - part 1 {the night before}:
BC: Momma? MOMMA?!?!?!
BC: MooooooooooooooommmMMMA! WHERE'S MY FOOD BOWL? I'm STARVING!!!!!
BC: The dishwasher isn't running . . . we have TONS of kibble . . . WHERE'S MY FOOD?!?! Why are you STARVING me????
MK: Beeeeeeeear! Momma's trying to sleep!
BC: You're STARVING me! Where's my food bowl? Where's my mat?!?!
MK: Why don't you snuggle?
BC: No! I want food! I'm going to climb all over you and use your head as a trampoline until you give me food!
BC: I'm DYING! DYING! Let me sing you the song of my people! Of starving kitties everywhere! Cruel humans! Cruel, cruel humans. Mistreated! Misunderstood! SCREWED!
MK: Beeeeeear! I can't give you food. And I need to sleep since I have to get up early.
BC: Is this related to my carrier being out of the closet? You took it out a few days ago. Don't think I didn't notice!
BC: {GASP} You're taking me in!
MK: Oh, Bear.
BC: First, they'll steal my beautiful plumage! Then they'll prepare my succulent loins for your consumption! TRAITOR! How much are you paying them for this atrocity?!?! I thought you LOVED me! Your life will be cold and empty without me!
MK: Yes. My life WOULD be cold and empty without you. Hopefully, it won't be any time soon.
BC: I WANT FOOD!!! Just tell me . . . what horrors do you have in mind for this cute, little, innocent kitty cat?
MK: I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, am I?
BC: You'll sleep when I eat!
MK: {groaning} I KNEW this was going to happen! This is going to be a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG night.
BC: Where's my food?
BC: I'm hungry! FEED ME!
BC: HIIIIIIIIIIIII! Don't forget to feed me!
. . . . {and on and on, ALL night. Bear doesn't sleep . . . and neither does Momma . . . and while she'd like to catch up on things, that doesn't happen either because Bear keeps stealing or destroying things to get Momma's attention for food . . . he's just a relentlessly stubborn (but much beloved) pain-in-the-ass. Unfortunately, in this case, where he's having his teeth cleaned in the morning and isn't supposed to have food after 8PM, Momma can't capitulate and end the tyranny. But she also doesn't want to tell him WHY he can't have food because he has a few hiding spots she has no clue about . . . just that he vanishes into thin air . . . and she has no doubt he'll take refuge immediately if she gives even a HINT of what's to come. Battle of wills. Momma 3; Bear 9,376. And as a ps . . . Bear not sleeping is 100% accurate . . . he didn't sleep between 8PM and 6AM when Momma took him in . . . and he followed her everywhere, with his nose in everything . . . because he is, well, Bear . . . }

On Bear's molar - part 2 {picking Bear up from the vet}:
MK: Hi, Bear. Did you have a bad day?
BC: What do you think? I haven't eaten since eight pm last night, I have a hole AND stitches where my vicious molar used to be, I REALLY need to use the litter box, and I see six of you! Like ONE of you isn't bad enough!
MK: I'm sorry. I'll get you home as quickly as possible.
BC: You ABANDONED me here! ABANDONED! What if you hadn't come back?
MK: I ALWAYS come back, Bear. The vet tech told me you were very sweet and she fell in love with you when you tried to cuddle up to her. {sigh} Like ALL women! My . . .
BC: MoooooommmMMA! You promised! You promised you wouldn't call me . . .
MK: My Bug. I love you so much. I missed you today! Every time I turned around and you weren't there, I almost cried.
BC: Oh, no! This is embarrassing! You PROMISED! NOT in public!
MK: {sniffling just a tad . . . moist eyes . . . surely allergies} I LOVE YOU so much, Bug.
BC: Ah, man! Two at the same time! You promised! At least you haven't . . .
MK: {leaning over to plant a kiss on Bear's nose} I love you, Bug.
BC: OF COURSE YOU WOULD! Because this day couldn't POSSIBLY get worse . . . until my Momma shows up and makes a scene! We TALKED about this! You never cry at any other time! You never get weepy about anything else but me! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! All these people watching . . . they'll think I'm not a virile, ferocious male cat . . . they'll think I'm a MOMMA'S BOY!
MK: You're not?
BC: {slightly firmer} I'm NOT a Momma's boy! I don't even know this woman! Oy! It must be the pain medication! I bet I've been talking to myself and this mirage of an ANNOYING woman isn't even real!
BC: No, NO! Don't cry MORE! We're leaving! I DEMAND YOU TAKE ME TO THE CAR RIGHT NOW! NO, don't tell the doctor AGAIN, how grateful you are to him! You've already thanked him PROFUSELY eight times! Grab hold of yourself! I hope he doesn't remember what cat got crammed in this carrier! It'll ruin EVERYTHING! I DEMAND A LAWYER! Or some OTHER kind of representation! NOW! NO! I demand to be taken to the CAR now! THEN, I want representation!
BC: HEY! You're not lugging around a bag of rocks in this carrier!
MK: Ummm, Bear? The carrier is still on the table, I haven't picked it up yet.
BC: PAIN MEDICATION! Ooooooooooh! Rainbows! UNICORNS! HEY, sexxxy!
MK: {whispering} Bear, that's the vet.
BC: You say that like it's a bad thing!
MK: {whispering} No, the OTHER one, Meow McQuacky-Pants. He just walked past in the hall.
BC: RATS! I wish to use my right to remain silent! Oh. But only after I say, PAIN MEDICATION! Whoo!

Did you miss the story of Meow McQuacky-Pants, the vet Bear dislikes more than all the other vets in the world combined? You can find the story here: Meow McQuacky-Pants & Bear's Food Time.

Where did the name "Bug," come from? It's short for Love Bug and a term of endearment. Apparently I shortened the name without realizing it and now it's become a habit.

On Bear's molar - part 3 {the aftermath}:
BC: Heeeee-y where are you going with my food bowl?
MK: The vet said you shouldn't have your dry food for a couple days unless I soak it first.
BC: BUT THAT'S MY FOOD BOWL! I'm starving! I haven't eaten in a . . . . err . . . MONTH!
MK: Bear, it's been about 20 hours.
BC: I KNEW IT! I'm dying! An ENTIRE MONTH without food!
MK: I put down a plate of wet food RIGHT in front of you - tuna and shrimp. You'd rather have wet food, right? You get three days of all wet food!
BC: I'm so weak, I keep walking in to the wall!
MK: No, your balance issues are remnants of the anesthesia.
BC: But I want my dry food! NOW!
MK: How about I add some of your chicken treats to the tuna and shrimp?
{Momma runs to the kitchen for the treats}
BC: Put my dry food bowl back!
MK: Bear, the vet said . . .
BC: I DON'T CARE! I want my dry food!
{Momma puts the bowl down and watches as Bear struggles with the dry food. Being dumb, it takes her a few face plants to figure out that he isn't falling asleep into his bowl, he's rearing back when the dry food touches his stitches and meanwhile accidentally digging food out of the bowl with his face. Then she picks the bowl up and cleans up the kibble all over the floor, meanwhile castigating herself for KNOWING better and giving in to kitty temper tantrums anyway. Another example of the cat suffering from the human's incompetence}.
BC: HEY! I want that! I WANT MY DRY FOOD!
MK: No. You have a bunch of wet food and treats.
BC: But I want DRY food! I'm not eating this wet food! It's not real food!
{Momma runs to dump some kibble on a plate and soak it with water}
MK: Here . . . here's some dry food moistened with water.
BC: It's SOGGY! I don't want SOGGY kibble!
MK: {almost in tears} How about I open the can with salmon and tuna?
BC: I want my food bowl with DRY KIBBLE in it!
{Momma runs to open another can on yet another plate}
MK: Bear, you always say kibble isn't real food! You have one plate of tuna and shrimp with chicken treats and moistened kibble . . . or here's a plate of salmon and tuna. I know you're starving!
{Silence . . . then Bear grudgingly eats a bit from the salmon and tuna, then goes to the plate with tuna and shrimp and has a bit . . . back and forth . . . struggling to adjust to eating with the wound in his mouth . . . and pawing at his face every so often}
{Now, Momma IS crying . . . because he's clearly struggling and there's NOTHING she can do . . . she tries to distract him from the food and see if he'll cuddle, but he's too damn stubborn to give up eating even though it's taking him a long time to eat just a bite and his coordination is off.}
{And for the rest of the night . . . NO JOKE, Bear gets up from cuddles to wander around (no small feat considering he staggers all over the place) looking for his dry food and walking past the plethora (and increasing number) of wet food varieties available on plates in front of him.}
{And Momma wonders WHY THE HELL he always complains about dry food when he has it . . . and wants more wet food when he can't have it . . . based on that, with only wet food, he should be in kitty heaven (minus the pain) . . . and Momma realizes she's been skunked for years into believing the poor, beleaguered Bear who can never get enough wet food and barely tolerates the dry food. He just wants what he can't have. Cats.}
{Yes, this post is more serious than most of our posts . . . I don't want to give the idea that the experience was all fun and games . . . it WAS NOT. From Bear's struggle to eat (with me trying EVERYTHING I could think of and running around in circles trying to get him to eat because I knew he was hungry) to his face plant while trying to get in the litter box, he was actually more "out of it" and "off" than after the surgery to remove his tumor. And second only to Bear's pain, was my own. I can deal with my own pain, but to watch him in pain is straight out torture. And he's too stubborn to accept help too (I helped him in to the litter box and he had to come out and then go back in by himself. Or when he tried to jump up his cat tree and I tried to help by placing him on the top perch only for him to jump down and then back up again. Cats. Oh, phooey, Momma's like that too . . . she clearly sees she has a "kid" just like her. The curse of every parent to the parent's stubborn/determined child: "I hope you have a kid JUST LIKE YOU when you grow up! Then you'll see!" Oh, yes. Yes, I will.)}

On Bear's molar - part 4
{the same night, more aftermath}:
MK: Did you have a good sleep?
BC: Who are YOU? Holy cat treats! I've finally come face to face with Bigfoot!
BC: Oh.
MK: Do you feel better?
BC: Maybe.
MK: You finally settled down for more than ten minutes . . . actually you slept for almost an hour.
BC: I was tired!
MK: I know. Before that, you kept getting up every five minutes and wandering around looking for your dry food bowl.
BC: Now that you mention it, I'm STARVING!
MK: Let me get out the plates of wet food from the refrigerator.
BC: But I want DRY food!
MK: {trying to distract him} I might hate seeing you in pain, but that was one very special cuddle.
BC: Hmph.
MK: You slept curled up in my arms . . . your chin was on my upper arm and both my arms were folded around you, holding you securely, meanwhile, you were pulled tight into me as I laid on my side. You were all wrapped up in my arms. And you fell asleep! Finally!
BC: I was tired!
MK: Do you remember me humming to you and petting you?
BC: YOUR humming? Phht. That wouldn't relax me, lady!
MK: Since I can't purr, I was hoping it'd have the same relaxing power.
BC: {sniff} I don't remember this.
MK: That's okay. All that matters is you got some rest.
BC: Hmph. I was surrounded. Where was I going to go?
MK: You SLEPT! And you're the one that came to me! I know better than trying to make you do anything - I just laid on the floor and waited in the blanket nest I created. See? There's drool on my shoulder! You were out cold! I know . . . after 10 years of sleep/cuddling, I know all the signs of you sleeping and you were OUT.
BC: I bet you drooled on your OWN shoulder!
MK: I doubt it, I couldn't fall asleep. I was too worried about you. I had to keep checking to make sure you were breathing.
BC: Whatever.
MK: It makes me feel good that you felt safe with me and I was able to get you to relax a bit.
BC: I'm sorry, is this post a love letter you yourself? "I'm so awesome and a great momma! I starved my cat for hours, abandoned him at a strange place for the day, then refused to let him eat dry food! Aren't I such a great momma?"
MK: Well, when you put it that way . . .
MK: NO! I also tried desperately to get you to eat by offering you four different kinds of wet food, I held you until you woke up even though I was in major pain and really hungry, and I tried to HELP you and keep you from hurting yourself!
BC: "I'm such a great momma! My cat has a hole in his mouth and stitches, requires pain medication, and I follow him around everywhere and regularly HAVE to check that he's breathing!"
MK: You needed the tooth to be removed! It bled every time I brushed your teeth! The only reason the vet didn't do it a year ago is because you'd already been "under" three times longer than he planned since he took out three times what he was expecting to remove of the tumor and the surrounding tissue!
BC: "I'm such a great cat momma, I let a stranger shave my cat of his luxurious plumage, let the same stranger slice my cat open, and then insisted he wear a cone until it became obvious he couldn't eat with it on!"
MK: So what you're saying is that I'm a terrible Momma?
BC: {sigh} No.
BC: But don't let that go to your head!
BC: {mumbling}.
MK: What was that?
BC: I liked our sleepy snuggle too.
MK: I love you, Bug.
BC: {sigh} {mumbling}.
MK: What?
BC: You always do everything you can to make me feel safe and loved, even when you're really scared yourself. I love you, Momma.

{As the night wore on, Momma and Bear had many more of these super cuddles, where Bear settled down enough to sleep and Momma refused to leave his side . . . until Bear felt a bit better and required his space, even though he still needed to check in with Momma every so often for reassurance. Being a Momma might be hard at times, but it also is the most rewarding and satisfying job I'll ever do.}

On Momma's cleaning day - part 1:
BC: MooooooooommmmmMMA! I have to poop! Where's my litter box?!?!?!
MK: It's soaking. How about you go outside?
BC: What does going outside have to do with pooping?
MK: You can poop outside.
BC: Noooooooo! Why would I poop outside when I have a litter box?
MK: I'm soaking your litter box so it will be clean and disinfected. Don't tell me you don't know how to poop outside . . . where did you poop when you were an outdoor only cat?
BC: Hmmm . . . I didn't poop.
MK: You've GOT to be kidding.
BC: Nope. I didn't poop. If pooping outside is so great, why don't YOU poop outside?
MK: Do you want to go outside or not?
BC: Yay!!!!!!!!
MK: But you have to poop while you're out there.
BC: Whatever.
{Momma lets Bear out and watches until he meanders to the garden, where she ASSUMES he's doing business.}
{Ten minutes pass}
MK: Bear! Inside! {shaking the treat bag}.
{Door closes}
MK: Did you poop?
BC: I need my litter box!
MK: Oh, for crying out loud!
BC: On the plus side, I found some tasty plants to eat.
BC: Momma! I REALLY have to poop! Where's my litter box?
MK: Bear, I love you more than anything, but sometimes, YOU FRUSTRATE ME!
BC: Yeah? Well, I have to poop and you are frustrating my poop!
MK: Never mind.
BC: Where's my litter box?
BC: Momma? Why are you in the closet? Wait! No! You can't close yourself in the closet WITHOUT ME! Let me poop really quickly and I'll be right back!

{Truth? I REALLY wanted to close myself in a closet . . . but since Bear is now too "good" to poop outside, and the soak was done, I just got his litter box ready for him. Not quite as exciting as closing myself in a closet . . . but we do what we have to do. So much for choosing a time of day that he doesn't usually need his litter box.}

On Momma's cleaning day - part 2:
BC: Oh, cozy cat tree! I thought I'd never see you again! Oh, food bowl! You're still full!
{Pause while Bear counts his pile of toys}.
BC: All my toys are safe!
MK: {mumbling to herself} Oh, brother. Here we go AGAIN!
BC: I BARELY survived! The horrific vacuum tried to EAT me! I was thisclose to its evil jaws! With razor-sharp teeth! I almost didn't make it!
MK: The vacuum is vegetarian.
BC: Noooooooo. That's even WORSE than I feared!
MK: {sigh} NOW what?
BC: It wants my cat tree! Or my kitty! Or my other toys! I KNEW the vacuum was up to no good!
MK: Err . . . I meant, it only eats vegetables.
BC: But it eats my fur!
MK: You know what, NEVER MIND. You're right. It's going to eat everything in this house, including me.
BC: Well. it didn't do a very good job! It was running forever and nothing is missing!
BC: {GASP} But my beautiful fur! It's a fur collector so you can steal my coat!
MK: Bear, we go through this EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I run the vacuum. It's not going to eat you. Or your toys. Or your cat tree. Or your food. It just eats yucky stuff.
BC: But my fur isn't yucky! I'm insulted! Disrespected! Slandered! OUTRAGED!
BC: {GASP} Yucky stuff like my litter box? Where will I poop with no litter box? I mean, it's not all that great and everything, but it's at least a litter box!
BC: Do you have a headache? You only open that drawer when you have a headache. Why do you have a headache? Is it because of the vacuum? Maybe he sucked up the remaining part of your brain! ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!?!? Do you need CPR? MOUTH-TO-MOUTH?!?!? Momma, MOMMA, are you OKAY?!?!
MK: I need quiet.
BC: Oh. Well, if you don't want to talk, I'll do all the talking. I've been meaning to tell you what happened on the windowsill today. There was this strange bird . . . and he . . . . . . . . . {Bear continues to update Momma on the neighborhood bird soap opera, which at this time, is a bit more extra drama than she can take . . . such is the life with cats} . . .

On cloaks & daggers - part 1:
MK: Ummmm . . . Bear? What are you doing?
BC: What does it look like I'm doing?
MK: "Loafing" it in the middle of the family room. In the dark. While I'm in bed.
BC: Can't talk now. I'm busy.
MK: Doing what? It's the middle of the night.
BC: You're awake.
MK: I woke up and had to go to the bathroom . . . which is when I noticed you just sitting there . . . staring off into space. I'm not even sure you knew I was there before I said something.
BC: Do you MIND! You're interrupting!
MK: What am I interrupting? You're just sitting there.
BC: {dramatic sigh} Do I have to explain EVERYTHING to you?
MK: I guess so.
BC: You wouldn't understand.
MK: Oooooookay. I'll just go back to bed now.
BC: FINALLY! You have NO idea how many times I've already saved your life tonight.
MK: Ummm . . . thanks?
BC: Are you STILL here? The situation is about to get ugly . . . If you stay and witness things no human should have to witness, don't blame me! I warned you.
MK: Good night.
BC: Oooooh, it WILL be. It DEFINITELY will be.

On cloaks & daggers - part 2 (the next night):
{Momma walks into the dark room . . . because, on the way to the bathroom, she sees Bear sitting loaf-style in the dark}
BC: Please leave.
MK: What? Are you coming to bed?
BC: ***THEY*** are watching.
MK: {looking around} Who? All I see is your usual gaggle of toys.
BC: Shhh! ***THEY*** are listening too.
BC: {looking around and sniffing the air} ***THEY*** are getting restless. It won't be long now. I feel ***THEM***.
BC: ***THEY*** want me to tell you swimsuit season is coming up so you might want to lay off the doughnuts a bit.
BC: HEY! Don't kill the messenger. You have no idea how many times I've saved your life already tonight. ***THEY*** require a sacrifice.
MK: THEY require a sacrifice but are complaining about how I'll look in a swimsuit?
BC: Fine, fine. Have it YOUR way. Just don't blame me when you become too luscious and juicy for ***THEM*** to resist temptation. Then even I won't be able to save you from ***THEIR*** savagery.
MK: Let me guess how I can avoid being a sacrifice: THEY want me to give them an entire bag of cat treats instead, to use as a sacrifice to their kitty gods.
BC: ***THEY*** do not deal in cat treats. Though I'm sure ***THEY*** would be more than happy to fatten me up like a ripe pig.
BC: {GASP} That's what you want!
MK: What?
BC: To fatten me up like a ripe pig so ***THEY*** will take me instead. All so you can continue your doughnut habit, unabashed. I see how it is . . . fried bread over cat! Still . . . treats . . .and a WHOLE bag? That might be worth the risk. Do what you want.
BC: {staring off into space} You're excused.
MK: But . . .
BC: Doughnut.
MK: What? Oh. Butt and doughnut. Clever.
BC: Please stop talking. I have a job to do. I must focus.
MK: Oooooookay. I'll just go back to bed.
BC: You'll thank me in the morning.
{Momma watches Bear, staring off into space in the dark . . . trying to figure WTF . . . then she scampers off to bed thinking better of it.}

On cloaks & daggers - part 3:
MK: Bear?
BC: Shhh. I'm busy.
MK: Yes, I see that. But in recognition of my stupidly simple explanations when it comes to you, what exactly ARE you doing?
BC: I'm spinning the desk chair.
MK: Yes, I see that much. You're sitting on the floor, whacking the chair with your paw so it spins around all the way, and then whacking it again.
BC: Do you mind? I'm BUSY!!!
MK: Ooookay. Have fun.
BC: Phht. Fun. FUN has nothing to do with it. I do it because I must.
MK: Never mind.
BC: Never mind? NEVER MIND?!?!?! I save your butt from horrible ends! Multiple times a day! And what thanks do I get? "Have fun!"
MK: I'm sorry, I didn't realize your not spinning my chair had such dire consequences.
BC: What does spinning the chair have to do with it? After a long day of fighting infidels and heathens for you, I get a bit bored and require stress relief.
MK: I'm confused . . . I thought you said, "I do it because I must."
BC: I find it troubling that the only part of my statement you felt necessary to acknowledge, "I get a bit bored and require stress relief," ignores the more significant and pertinent part of my statement, "After a long day of fighting infidels and heathens for you."
MK: Err . . . thanks. I appreciate you saving me from infidels and heathens. Perhaps I could help?
BC: Spin the chair? No, I've got it covered.
MK: No, with the infidels and heathens.
BC: {sigh} Alas, it can only be my burden to bear.
MK: Haha. Bear bears burdens benevolently.
BC: Are you MOCKING me?
MK: No!
BC: I shouldn't THINK so. You're dismissed.
MK: Any chance I could use that chair, within say, the next hour?
BC: Not likely. I require a nap.
MK: Okay. Have . . . err . . . a . . . umm . . . a restful nap. You certainly deserve it for all the burdens you bear on my behalf.
BC: You're welcome.

On "yummytreats:"
BC: Can I have more treats?
BC: What?
MK: I gave you double the usual amount of treats! Are they gone already?
BC: Now I don't feel so bad. I thought I was slipping. It took me 11.638 seconds to eat the treats you gave me today. It usually takes me about 8 seconds and some change . . . but if you gave me double, then I ROCKED those babies!
MK: You time how long it takes to eat your treats?
MK: It's not a contest!
MK: How do you count the .638?
BC: I make that part up.
BC: Excuse me.
MK: BEAR! That's disgusting!
BC: Give me a . . .
MK: You just had to move a few feet for that last one, didn't you? It'd be too easy to just do it all in the same place?
BC: I try not to hack in polite company. That one had a little rumbly in the tumbly.
MK: Hmmm . . . just curious . . . you don't time how long it takes you to barf?
BC: Why would I do that? That's just weird.
BC: Can I have more treats? MAN! I'm starving!

On Bear's "date" for Valentine's Day:
BC: Do you have a date for Valentine's Day?
MK: No.
BC: RATS! I should have known . . .
MK: Trying to get rid of me?
BC: Errrr . . . OF COURSE not. I just thought it would be great for you to get out . . . and, err . . . yeah . . . that.
MK: Okay.
BC: Don't you want flowers and wine and romance and CHO-CO-LATE?!?!
MK: The frustrations of dating aren't worth any of that. I could give myself flowers and wine if I wanted them, and I have plenty of chocolate. I ALWAYS have chocolate. And I don't bother with the fancy boxes of chocolate because I like to know what I'm getting.
BC: A woman who doesn't like wine or bubble baths . . . it's like a cat that doesn't like boxes.
BC: Oh.
MK: Though I suppose you're more SCARED of boxes, than just not liking them.
BC: I'm not SCARED of boxes! I just recognize that a box might eat me. I don't have to worry about my cat bed eating me, so why take the chance? Besides, it's far more fun to annoy you by stealing your chair.
MK: Come to think of it . . . Cats are like a box of fancy chocolates . . . you always hope for the best, yet you never know what you're going to get each time you touch them . . .
BC: How complicated can it be? I purr . . . pet me. I don't purr, don't pet me.
MK: But it's never that easy is it? Especially with you.
BC: What does THAT mean?
MK: You often come find me, not because you actually want to be petted, but because you want me to acknowledge you. If I try more than a casual pat, you attack me.
BC: Well, I . . . hmmm.
MK: Or when I get home from being away for a few hours and you meet me at the door, rubbing up against me, purring away a storm, and I reach down to pet you and you bite me.
BC: You abandon me! I could be catnapped! Or eaten by the toaster! Or sucked into the heating vents! And who would be here to save me? Phht. I'm not happy to SEE you, I just appreciate that you won't let the refrigerator cat cake me.
MK: Bear, none of these things could happen.
BC: But how do you KNOW FOR SURE? Things around here TAUNT me!
MK: I'm confused. First, you want me to go on a date for Valentine's Day and act annoyed that I'll be here and now you're complaining that the appliances might kill you when I'm gone?
BC: IT COULD HAPPEN! And I'm hoping to entertain a friend.
MK: The blonde cougar? The Nigerian prince?
BC: HEY! He said he loved me AND he's rich! And the blonde cougar said she was excited to meet me tonight!
BC: But, no. This one's solid. A naughty pussy looking for a sugar daddy. I can be a sugar daddy, right? What is a sugar daddy? Does that mean I have to buy her a lot of candy? And what exactly makes a cat naughty? I mean, isn't that slightly redundant?
MK: I wouldn't worry. If the naughty feline gets out of line, I'm sure the bread maker will take care of the problem.
BC: Good poin . . . wait a minute . . . VERY funny. Hi-LARIOUS. Everyone knows the bread maker is vegetarian!
MK: Oh, Bear.
BC: Now the crock pot, on the other hand? He's CREEPY.
MK: And the can opener?
BC: What's wrong with the can opener?
BC: Oh, haha. The can opener isn't ALIVE. She can't eat me . . . OBVIOUSLY.
BC: Right? Momma? MommmmmmmmmMMMA!?!?!? {GASP} Is that why you keep her in a drawer? She needs to be contained?!?!?! {GASP} Because she's vicious and ravenous?
MK: Snuggles?
BC: {sigh} Fine. Happy Valentine's Day, Momma.
MK: I love you, Bear. Every day.
BC: Yeah, yeah. Watch out for the "Valentine" I left you in your bedroom.

If you missed the episode with the blonde cougar and the Nigerian prince (and Bear being grounded from the internet permanently), you can catch up here: Bear Loses His Internet Privileges, Permanently.

And for those of you who might not know, Bear doesn't like boxes. You can read about the box saga here (on boxes, part 1, 2, and 3): "Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 13.

On chest cats:
MK: Calling all cats! Calling all cats! Momma needs snuggles! Momma needs snuggles!
BC: Do I look like a lap cat?
MK: No. You're more a chest cat.
BC: But you don't have any teats.
MK: Umm . . .

BC: Not that I'm saying I checked . . .
BC: Okay, okay. I did. But sometimes a growing boy just wants some milk!
MK: This conversation is so wrong . . .
BC: But don't worry! You're a decent Momma in other ways. I can overlook the lack of milk production. And that you're not a cat. That you're not a cat is harder to deal with, but eh.
MK: Snuggles?
BC: Because of the geeky way you announced them, I have to make you wait five minutes.
BC: I'm a BREAST man!
MK: You ARE a boob. But let's not repeat that, okay?
BC: Why? What's wrong with being a breast man?
MK: Never mind.
BC: Okay. Your penalty is over. Move on over!
MK: But you lay ON me.
BC: I know. I just wanted to say that. You don't have to actually move . . . this time. Because I'm a BREAST MAN!
MK: Oh, no.
BC: Man of the breast!
BC: Breastial!
BC: Breast-astic!
MK: Are you done?
BC: Breast-orific!
MK: Now?
BC: Yeah, okay. Those all sounded better in my head.
MK: They always do.

On the non-pre-approved stranger in the house:
This conversation occurs solely in silent form, between Bear and I, communicated through occasional glances and facial expressions (I'm still surprised Bear came out from his hiding spot . . . that's rare, especially with a male visitor).

BC: Ummmm . . . WHO are YOU?!?!?
MK: Bear, be nice.
BC: {giving the guy a few glances} There's a strange man in our house!
MK: He's here to check some stuff.
BC: You mean like a review?
MK: Ummm, maybe?
BC: Be sure to direct him to my litter box and my food bowl!
MK: What?
BC: He should see that you haven't scooped my litter box in the last HOUR. And my food bowl is almost EMPTY.
MK: Your bowl is full. Just not overflowing anymore.
BC: As I said, EMPTY! That should DEFINITELY go in any review. I took two bites since you filled it! TWO! Starvation is imminent!
MK: What kind of review would that be part of?
BC: You mean he isn't here to evaluate our household for cat-worthiness? Isn't it time for your re-licensing?
MK: No.
BC: I don't like this AT ALL.
MK: What's wrong?
BC: He smells funny.
MK: I don't smell anything.
BC: He doesn't smell like OUR HOUSE.
MK: He won't be here too long.
BC: So he's not your boyfriend?
MK: No.
BC: And he's not here to "check" me?
MK: Correct.
BC: Eh. Whatever. He's in MY space now.
MK: I'm pretty sure he knows that given that you've been staring at him, just out of his reach, for the last fifteen minutes.
{Bear goes back to staring at the strange man}
MK: BEAR! That's rude! He doesn't need you to supervise.
BC: How do you know? I supervise EVERYTHING in this house! He wasn't pre-approved! What if he steals one of my micey? Or uses my litter box? Or eats MY food?!?!?! You're not going to give HIM my wet food treat, are you!?!?!? ARE YOU!?!?!
MK: Oh, Bear.
BC: What if I go to my cat tree later and he's curled up on my favorite perch? {GASP} Or even worse, he STEALS my cat tree while you're not looking?!?!
BC: What if I go to keep you warm and find him snuggled in my place?
MK: You're irreplaceable, Bear. I won't let him touch any of your stuff.
BC: What if he's a cat smuggler? Maybe he's only here to "case" the joint! He'll come back later and cat-nap me! He and his associates will sell me into slavery! Or the sex trade! I'm worth a lot, you know!
MK: No one is going to hurt you, Bear.
BC: Phht. You always say that RIGHT before you brush my teeth or clip my claws. Liar.
BC: Does he have treats?
MK: No.
BC: RATS! I don't like him AT ALL! What man goes to a house with a cat and doesn't bring treats for the cat?!?! Let me tell you, man . . . when the cat's not happy, NO ONE is happy!

On the technicality:
BC: MooooooommmmmmmmMMMMA! It's time for my wet food treat!
MK: We still have about fifteen minutes.
BC: Like it would kill you to give it to me a few minutes early!
MK: Like it would kill YOU to get it a few minutes late.
BC: {GASP!!!} Don't even JOKE about that!
{More silence}
BC: I retract my few minutes early argument. I'll see you in thirteen minutes. If I don't starve by then. Waaaaaaasting away! I'm waaaaasssting!
BC: Weak . . . so weak . . . OOF!
BC: Did you see that?!?! I'm so weak I collapsed!
MK: Bear, you walked into the couch because you were too busy looking at me instead of watching where you were going.
BC: Technicality.
MK: Truth.
BC: Cute.
MK: Pain.
BC: I hate you!
MK: I love you.
BC: I love you too, Momma!
BC: {sigh} RATS!
BC: I meant . . . err . . . ummm . . . I'll love you when you give me my treat!

On the spread of Momma's "iniquities:"
MK: Bear! BEAR!?!?! Why am I . . .
BC: {walking in to the room} Oh H-ELL-O! I must be interrupting something. I'll just leave you to . . . umm . . .whatever it is you're doing with your butt stuck straight up in the air.
MK: What? I'm trying to get YOUR mousie out from your cat tree corner.
BC: How does having your butt pointed upward meanwhile hanging upside down over the edge of the couch help with mousie retrieval?
MK: Bear . . .
BC: {GASP} You're using my corner for your iniquities! You've soiled my sacred place! That corner is the only part of this house free from your human vulgarity!
BC: RUINED! STAINED! Alas, I must find a new spot for my angelic activities!
BC: WHAT!?!? Why are you LAUGHING? Do you ENJOY spreading your impurities? {GASP} You do it on purpose to lead me down the road of the wicked!
MK: {still laughing} ANGELIC activities? You've GOT to be kidding.
BC: I don't see . . .
MK: Whenever you hide back there, it is usually for one of a few reasons. One, you want to barf in the ONE place in this entire house that is nearly impossible for me to reach to clean. Two, you just did something you know you weren't supposed to do. Or three, you think that if you sit back there long enough, I'll forget to brush your teeth. All of them being FAR from angelic.
BC: Well, maybe I overstated that part by just a BIT.
MK: Ummm . . . hmmm . . .
BC: Like YOU'RE so perfect! Always impugning my virtue! I don't have to put up with this!
MK: Pot, meet kettle.
BC: Nooooo! You hexed me! I'm turning into a toad! I feel it! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
MK: What is that sm . . .
BC: Nope. Just gas.
MK: Bear! That's even worse than a ripe litter box! You "impugn" your OWN virtue . . . and my breathing space!

For more information about Bear's cat tree corner: Meowing Up The Wrong Tree? (& Lots of Pictures).

On "sharing" the desk chair:
MK: Come on, Bear. We can share this chair.
BC: NO! No, we can't SHARE this chair! I was here first!
MK: You brought me one of your micey to play, so I got up and threw the mousie.
BC: Relinquishing the chair.
MK: No. You bring me a mousie to play, I throw it, and you chase it. Then I go pick it up and throw it another direction . . . over and over again.
BC: It sounds like you play fetch with yourself.
MK: You chase the mousie almost every time! You just don't bring him back anymore. I went to get mousie, threw him, came back, and you waited until I was TWO FEET from my chair, looked up at me, and jumped in my chair! Then you started grooming yourself like you were there all along.
BC: I was.
MK: No, you weren't! We can share.
BC: Bear doesn't share. DOES NOT.
MK: Can I at least get half of my butt on the chair?
BC: Like it's my fault your butt is so big! My entire BODY fits on this chair!
MK: That's because you're taking up 80% of it!
BC: Whatever.
MK: Here's a ruler! The length of the seat of the chair is about . . . err . . . 20 inches. You're taking up . . . 15 inches . . . including your splayed tail. That's 75%!
BC: SEE! You LIED! I'm only taking up 75% of the seat of the chair!
MK: Bear . . . if you include the one inch margin that you require because we're not allowed to touch when both on the chair, that's 80%!
BC: Are you satisfied with your nerdiness? Is this why you have no friends? You go around with your ruler measuring portions so everything is exactly 50/50? I bet when you were married, you took a ruler and drew a line down the middle of the bed! Did you need a "t-square" to portion your pizza?
MK: Technically, I'm not sure a t-square would help portion a pizza . . . though I'm sure there's a rocket scientist way to use a t-square to measure halfsies on a pizza.
BC: Do you listen to yourself?
MK: All I want is more than 4 inches of chair for my butt!
BC: All I want are treats! But I don't get everything I want either! Let me show you where to stick that ruler!
MK: FINE! Take the chair.
BC: I did. Like FIVE MINUTES ago. HELLLLL-O! Where are YOU?
MK: Kneeling on the floor in front of my computer. While you hog my chair.
BC: Well, LA-dee-DA!
MK: Fee-fi-fo-fum.
BC: You ARE a scary giant!
MK: And yet, I let you have my chair.
BC: "Let?" You don't "let" me do anything! I'm a cat. I do what I want. When I want. ALL THE TIME!
MK: Okay. Keep the chair.
BC: This game is boring when you refuse to play! I don't even WANT the stupid chair. I'm going somewhere else!
{Pause while Bear jumps down from the chair and Momma plops down in the chair}
BC: RATS! I'VE BEEN SCREWED!!! Tricked! Mistreated! Ill-used! Defrauded! HOODWINKED! Bamboozled! VICTIMIZED! Swindled!
MK: Outwitted?

On BEAR'S desk chair:
MK: BEAR! You better rescue string from under the paper bags!
MK: Uh, oh! String is snaking around! He's going to get you!

MK: You better rescue mousie from under the paper bags! SEE! He's right here! Ohhh! Where'd he go?

MK: Last one! Mou-SIE! {Mousie flies down the hall}. Go get the mousie!

MK: NO? You're fired from your mousie and string chasing duties!
MK: {mumbling as Momma walks down the hall and brings mousie back all by herself . . .}
MK: This is what happens when I try to play with you! You sit there and stare at me but when I try to play . . .
MK: { . . . only to find Bear in her chair from which she hadn't moved until she left to rescue mousie because Bear refused to play.}

MK: Son of a (BLEEP)! You weren't sitting there watching me because you wanted to play! You just wanted my chair! You act like you own EVERYTHING in this house and I'm just in the way!

MK: {thinking} Hmmmm. (BLEEP) cat!
MK: Awww . . . who's purring! I love you! So cu . . .
MK: OWWWWWWWW! You purred! I pet you! And now I have a hole in my hand! Sometimes you have a SERIOUS attitude problem! And you're still in my chair!

MK: {mumbling as Momma goes to find something else to do because the cat can't be disturbed.}

Monday, February 22, 2016

Bear, While Momma Sleeps

Do you ever wonder why Momma requires so many naps (other than for an excuse to snuggle with her favorite kitty)? There is no better time to see all the facets of Bear's personality than while Momma sleeps . . . with him, you never know exactly what you're going to get. He might caterwaul for hours . . . singing a deep and mournful song for his friends that pass by outside . . . or he might randomly meow as he's walking around, until Momma drags herself out of bed to check on him with concern . . . only to be chased back to bed by said cat, while he's nipping at her heels. Above all though, Bear is a snuggle kitty: when I lay down (even if it's on the floor with my head underneath the sink to fix a leak) he quickly and efficiently snuggles in right on top of me. However, while Momma sleeps in a big block of time like all humans, Bear gets up a few times to eat, use the litter box, play, or look outside. 

The frustrating episodes described in this post occur after Bear's finished whatever business he got up to accomplish and before he settles back in to snuggle with his sleeping Momma. Before settling, Bear feels the need to wake Momma up for an ever changing number of reasons. Because for Bear, EVERYTHING is an emergency. For most of his life, I trained myself NOT to react to a number of tactics he's tried, so I didn't reinforce the behavior (thus the cattle prod on his Wish List); these tactics include sticking his cold, wet nose in my ear, licking or biting my ear when the cold, wet nose doesn't work, banging his paw on the wall, and staring at me only a few inches from my face until I wake up. A year ago, during the anguish and anxiety-provoking week of not knowing whether Bear's tumor was malignant or not (which I talked about in Too Close to a Nightmare I Couldn't Handle), I gave in to every attempt because I'd rather have him alive and annoying than not have him at all. Thus began the period, that still continues, of Bear's insistence that I wake up for his every whim . . . and my begrudging compliance with his requests because I'm so thankful he's still alive to make them.

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

Bear, the Conqueror: 
BC: I have climbed to the top of the mountain! I've fought hordes!! I've suffered calamities! But I have CONQUERED!
BC: And what a beautiful view! I see the majestic mountains of China there! And the depths of the Pacific Ocean over there . . .
BC: Oh. That's just the couch and my water bowl.
MK: Haha. Very funny, Bear. I'm awake now. Happy?
BC: Are you petting me?
MK: It's kinda hard to reach you when you're standing in conqueror pose on my hip. If I turn my body to reach, you'll lose your balance and fall from your quite precarious perch.
BC: I see my litter box from here!
BC: FINE! But these ear rubs better be worth it! I worked hard to get here! {Sigh} Another formidable, assiduous, and ambitious feline reduced to the role of the common housecat. Good bye, greatness! Hello, ordinary!
BC: I love you, Momma.
MK: I love you, too, my formidable and assiduous housecat.
BC: You forgot ambitious.
MK: I love you, too, my formidable, assiduous, and AMBITIOUS housecat.

Bear, the Helper:
MK: Wha? Beeeeeeeeeeear! It's THREE AM!
BC: I just thought you'd want to know the dishwasher is done.
MK: I'm going back to sleep.
BC: HIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!! Maybe you didn't hear me correctly the first time . . . . but THE DISHWASHER IS DONE!
MK: Okay. Thank you.
BC: Aren't you going to unload it?
MK: No. I just started it when I went to bed, I'll deal with it in the morning.
BC: But my food bowl is in there!
MK: Yes. But you have a replacement food bowl full of food on your mat.
BC: But it's not my USUAL bowl.
MK: {sigh} Yes.
BC: The food tastes different. Did you switch me to diet food?
MK: No.
BC: That's what I thought! The bowl must be defective.
MK: BEAR! It's the same exact size and style and material as your regular bowl! No one would know the difference in looking at them! They're IDENTICAL.
BC: But I know.
BC: I can't eat the food in that bowl. The good news is that the dishwasher is done so you can just give me my regular bowl back.
MK: Bear, I'm just going to dump the food from one bowl to the other . . .
{Bear stares at Momma}
MK: Really? REALLY?!?!?
BC: You wouldn't want me to go hungry.
MK: That's why I didn't just dump it on the mat like usual! Since you for some weird reason refuse to eat kibble dumped on your mat, even though you never eat from the bowl ANYWAY, because you just HAVE to paw it out on your mat first when you HAVE a bowl. I figured this way you wouldn't spend the night on the counter since you've gotten in the habit of sitting on the kitchen counter until the dishwasher is done. I tried something different. I gave you another bowl and just started the dishwasher when I went to bed. You HAVE a bowl! FULL of food!
BC: But it's not my REGULAR bowl. I'm sorry, you appear to be misunderstanding me, but this is NOT a negotiation.
MK: {bunch of mumbling as Momma drags herself out of bed, goes to the kitchen to get Bear's "regular" bowl out of the dishwasher, pours the kibble from the offending bowl to the usual bowl}. There.
{Bear sniffs the food and walks away}
MK: What?!?!
BC: I'm not really hungry.
MK: What?
BC: I'm not really hungry right now. I'll get to it later.
{We'll just end the dialogue here . . . if you share your life with cats, you are no doubt familiar with the words spoken in frustration in this type of situation . . . the only thing Momma can reasonably say for herself is that she didn't yell and she didn't yell or express her extreme frustration AT/TO the cat. Because then she would feel bad. So, by the time Momma calmed down, Bear was sleeping soundly in the same exact spot on her bed from which she was so rudely awaken. Cats. Huh. They are cute. And they are pains. In some ever-revolving order.}

Notes: In an example of pure CAT LOGIC . . . Bear free-feeds from a bowl of kibble and before he eats, he must bat the kibble out on the mat under his bowl. But, if the bowl is in the dishwasher and the kibble is poured out on his mat, he refuses to eat the kibble and holds vigil on the counter above the dishwasher until it is done. When the dishwasher is done, Momma dumps the kibble from the mat into the now clean bowl, and suddenly that same kibble is edible again (after being pawed out of the bowl onto the mat). 

Bear, the Entertainer:
BC: Your sleep is over.
MK: Beeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaar! It's four am! Lemme sleep!
BC: And I'm freeeeee - free fallin'.

Yeah I'm freeeeeee - free falllllin'.
MK: BEAR! Stop knocking {BLEEP} off my bedside table!
BC: Come on, vogue,
Let your body move to the music (move to the music).
Hey, hey, hey.
Come on, vogue,
Let your body go with the flow (go with the flow).
You know you can do it!
MK: My body isn't a catwalk! You strutting up and down the side of my body wouldn't be so bad if you didn't stumble and give me a face full of tail or cat butt . . .
BC: Kitty at my foot and I wanna touch it,

Kitty at my foot and I wanna touch it.
Kitty at my foot and I wanna touch it,
Kitty at my foot and I WANT TO TOUCH IT!
Meow, meow,
MK: The Presidents of the United States Of America? REALLY?!?! REALLY?!?!
BC: You can pet me now!
MK: You couldn't find a better way to tell me that than to climb all over me like a jungle gym?
BC: Meow, meow,

MK: You're killing me, Bear. KILL-ING ME!
MK: Now that damn song is stuck in my head!
BC: Meow, meow,
MK: {Pulling the blanket over her head} GO AWAY!
BC: We are Siamese if you please.
We are Siamese if you don't please.
Now we lookin' over our new domicile.
If we like we stay for maybe quite a while.
MK: Cruel! You're cruel! Knocking me in the head with your butt to each beat of "BA-DUM-PUM-PUM." And you know I hear that song only ONCE and I can't get it out of my mind for MONTHS!
BC: So, I gave some to my cat, when he began to beg.
Then he licked his bowl and he looked at me,
And did the wild thing on my leg.
He used to scratch and bite me, before he was much, much meaner,
But now all the kitties run to my house for the Funky Cold Medina!
BC: I said "I got it goin' on baby doll and I'm on fire"
Took her to the hotel she said "You're the king"
I said "Be my queen if you know what I mean and let us do the wild thing!"
MK: Okay! OKAY! I'm awake! No more kitten making!
BC: HEY! I've had to listen to you sing all of these songs. I'm just returning the favor!
MK: I've never sung the "Kitty" song by the Presidents.
MK: {BLEEP}! I heard it on the radio in the car, I couldn't help it!
Meow, meow,
BC: {yawning} I'm EXHAUSTED! If I'm really lucky, I'll dream of all the kitties running to my house to do the WILD THING! EH - EH - Eh - Eh. Because you KNOW, my milkshake brings all the girls to the yard!
MK: ANNNNNND . . . you're grounded.
BC: This is why I must live in verse! 'Cause I can't do the WILD THING! EH - EH - Eh - Eh.
MK: There's no way I'm going to fall back asleep with all these songs in my head.
BC: Can you keep it down over there? I'm trying to sleep!

Notes: The soundtrack to this dialogue . . . given you're crazy enough to tempt fate and risk one or all of these songs stuck in your head:
*** Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers --- Free Fallin'
*** Vogue --- Madonna
*** The Presidents of the United States Of America --- Kitty
*** From Disney's Lady and the Tramp --- "The Siamese Cat Song" (We Are Siamese)

*** Tone Loc --- Wild Thing
*** Tone Loc --- Funky Cold Medina
*** Kelis --- Milkshake

Fun fact: Did you know the Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp are named "Si" and "Am?"

Bear, the Sensitive Kitty Lover:
BC: MooooooooommmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMA! Come quickly! It's a disaster!
MK: Wha? It's TWO AM, Bear!
MK: What's wrong, Bear?
BC: Kitty got stuck in the paper bag!
MK: How the heck . . .
BC: I can't reach her!
MK: How did you get her in the flap at the bottom of the bag? I'd have thought she's too big to fit!
BC: I was showing her my ninja moves!
MK: You can go around to the other end of the bag - where the opening of the paper bag is, Smarty-cat. See?!?!
BC: Phew. I thought I'd lost her forever!
MK: What?
BC: Are you still here?
MK: I was admiring you and kitty snuggled up together.
BC: This is a private moment.
MK: Excuse me.
BC: You're welcome.
Kitty after the daring rescue . . . and for reference as to the flap at the bottom of Bear's paper bag, and the relative size of Kitty to that flap . . . 

Bear, the Sweetheart (well . . . mostly):
{Momma is sleeping, Bear jumps on the bed}
BC: {While rubbing up all over Momma - very persistently} Oh Momma, I love you so much. Pet me! Pet me NOW! I can't live another second without loves! You're the best Momma EVER! I love you so much! NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
MK: Bear! I'm sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeping!
BC: But I need loves NOW!
{Momma pets Bear once}
MK: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That's going to leave a bruise and a scar - in addition to the fang hole now in my arm. Seriously? After all that effort to wake me up?
BC: You're welcome.
MK: @#$%^&*!
BC: Thank you!
BC: Momma?
MK: What?
BC: You don't like me.
MK: And why is that?
BC: You're not petting me or playing with me.
MK: I tried! I didn't even get an entire pet in there before you bit me! And I was SLEEPING before that! You know - sleep - that thing where you curl in a ball, sometimes snore and every so often your tongue sticks out just a bit? So cute!
BC: You DID NOT just go there! Do you really have to air my dirty laundry for everyone to see? At least I don't drool!
MK: Not that you know of.
BC: HUH! You're evil. And this "sleeping" you claim to be doing isn't cute.
MK: Nice, Bear.
BC: Yeah, well, maybe next time you should validate my feelings.
MK: You can be slightly dramatic.
MK: Not everything is about you!
BC: What planet are you on?
MK: Clearly not yours.
BC: Then you don't like me. I'm going to take my planet elsewhere.
MK: Can you be quiet there?
BC: Never mind, I'm going to knock your planet out of its sad, messed up orbit.
MK: What else is new?
BC: You're not petting me.
MK: How about some sleepy snuggles?
BC: I love you, Momma. Even when I can't resist the urge to bite you.
MK: I love you, too, Bear.
BC: You really ARE the best Momma EVER! PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Psst . . . keep up with the two-handed ear rubs . . . I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE those!

And in a twist of cat logic . . . what happens when Momma accidentally wakes Bear up?
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.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

DramaCat vs. DiaboliCat

I'm completely fascinated by the inner workings of the feline mind; as I've said before, besides functioning as odes to my favorite feline, many of my posts focus on, "What are our cats THINKING?" What do they really think about humans? Do they really think humans are out to "get" them and make their lives as frustrating as possible? How do they interpret our behavior? What assumptions are fundamental to their thinking, but completely inaccurate (examples - How does Bear explain snow? And does Bear think his micey are "real"? How would he know the difference if he's never encountered a "real" mouse?)? Are they master con artists or just drama queens? When they throw temper tantrums are they REALLY in pain or is it all an act? The best example of this in Bear's case is when I clip his claws; I've asked his vet at least FIVE separate times if there's any POSSIBLE way it could hurt him because he throws such a fit. And I have to admit that I still harbor doubts - I just don't ask anymore because, from the looks I got from the vet and vet techs, I'm surely already the laughing stock of the practice just by asking that question more than once.

This post is a bit random in that the first dialogue doesn't really tie to the second one, other than the questions they both raise about what really goes on in cats' minds. What do you think? Is Bear DramaCat or DiaboliCat or some combination of the two? Do you think Momma's slightly paranoid for coming up with DiaboliCat? Which do you think best describes your cat(s)? That's the thing about cats . . . you never actually KNOW without a doubt . . . so the best you can do is fumble around and hope everything turns out for the best. But if cats really do view us humans as complete morons, the "fumbling around" no doubt confirms their suspicions.

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

Bear shares his feelings on winter:
BC: I hate winter!
MK: Okay. I'll bite. Why?
BC: You'll bite me?
MK: No, I meant I'll indulge your line of thinking. I usually know better, but sometimes I get curious.
BC: AHHHHHH! Momma's going to sink her teeth into my luscious, succulent loins! I KNEW she was trying to assassinate me! I'll go the way of the dinosaurs into her big belly! Bye, cozy cat tree! Farewell, teddy! So long, micey! I must remember to dictate my will.
BC: My will . . . I think I've adequately expressed you during my lifetime . . . as I do not accept "no" as an answer . . .  
MK: Let's do this over again.
BC: So you won't bite me?
MK: No.
BC: I hate winter.
MK: Why?
BC: It's cold! And that leads to all kinds of accompanying problems.
MK: Like?
BC: NO! I don't LIKE it! Are you even LISTENING?
MK: What "accompanying" problems?
BC: First, you wear sweatshirts, long pants, and thick socks around all the time. How am I expected to communicate my wrath when my fangs can't puncture your skin through the material?
MK: I guess you'll have to be satisfied with the scars you inflict the rest of the year.
BC: You jest, but yet know so little.
MK: Not ALWAYS looking like I met the wrong end of a barbed wire fence . . . one of my favorite parts of winter.
BC: I hate you, but I can't declare that in any consequential, fulfilling way! I'm left disillusioned and disgruntled! You should show reverence for my lethiferous nature! You should be frightened by my voracity for gore! You should TREMBLE at the mention of "Bear Cat!"
MK: Does it count that I go soft inside thinking of my favorite, snuggly kitten?
BC: Phht. Snuggly kitten. HARDLY.
MK: It still startles me when you run up behind me and bite the back of my leg and then take off.
BC: Now THAT is what I'm talking ABOUT. You stand there like a big juicy dumb sausage, oblivious to and unaware of the danger, and BAM! I bite you. You don't even see it coming! Then I run to safety before you even knew what bit you!
MK: Because I'm always in the middle of something: I'm washing my face, brushing my teeth, washing dishes, or standing in the middle of the room trying to remember where I was in my list of tasks. And okay, it's a little weird when you attack me when I'm standing still. How much fun can ambushing a "big, juicy, dumb sausage" be?
BC: Oh, how little you know about the minds of us brutal, ruthless, and merciless felines!
MK: You mean that you're all just a bit unstable and erratic?
BC: You act like that's not part of our charm. I don't see YOU getting a dog.
MK: Touche.
BC: No, TOO slobbery, amiable, submissive, and malleable. 
MK: Why else do you dislike winter?
BC: During winter, you get away with clipping my claws and other horrendous atrocities because I can't bite through your sweatshirt!
MK: So you don't like that I get my way three months out of the year.
BC: I'm a cat! There's only ONE "way!" MINE! Did you forget my "will," as I dictated earlier?!?
MK: You still gnaw on my arm. You clamp down one way, then get mad I can't feel it, then find a new bite hold . . .
BC: And I get screwed! I'm a vicious biting and gnawing MACHINE!

BC: See, that's the problem! You should be overcome with pain and fear! But it's like you don't even FEEL it! When I put in an order for a home, I SPECIFICALLY asked for a momma with a low pain tolerance! And I got YOU! Even when you feel the full wrath of my feline furry fury . . . you hardly flinch! You suck too!
MK: Why else does winter bother you?
BC: I freeze my little tail off if I manage to escape outside. And my poor little paws! It's YOUR fault!
MK: How's that? You're the one that runs outside!
BC: I don't understand why for only three months of the year, you make it freezing cold. If you really wanted to keep me inside, you'd make it cold year-round.
MK: Maybe because I have no control over the outside temperature?
BC: Yeah. right. You just like messing with me - one day it's nippy and I almost lose my tail to frost-bite, and the next I'm in kitty heaven!
MK: Anything else?
BC: During the winter, the grass tastes like . . . well, you'll bleep that . . . and that . . . poop!
MK: I see the problem. You escape in anticipation of a bountiful grass buffet and only find cold and nasty grass.
BC: Grass BOO-FAY! Everyone loves a fresh grass buffet!
MK: You forgot about the cold white stuff.
BC: Yeah! All the white bugs COVER the BOO-FAY! Well, let them have the poopy grass!
MK: Do you remember the time I carried you out in the snow and you freaked out and ended up on my back?
BC: You dropped me!
MK: I did not. You climbed on my back because a car backfired and you launched yourself over my head and landed in the foot deep snow.
BC: The little white bugs you call "snow" were all over me! I took care of them! After I got inside, they'd all been defeated and disappeared! I'm just THAT badass.
MK: Winter's not all bad.
BC: What do you know? You don't even lick your own butt!
MK: One of my favorite parts of winter is that it's perfect for unlimited snuggling with my favorite kitty!
MK: Don't tell me you don't enjoy the extra snuggles!
{Silence while Bear stares at Momma}
MK: Bear?
BC: You said don't tell you! But then you get mad when I listen to you! You confuse me! 
MK: You purr!
BC: You fart! I don't take that personally! Why would you take my purring personally?
MK: Because you rub up against me and curl up on top of me.
BC: Because I'm COLD! Hmph. A little conceited aren't we! Thinking I snuggle for MY happiness. NO! I'm just COLD!
MK: Plus, during winter, your plumage is thick, luxurious, and gorgeous!
BC: My plumage is ALWAYS all of those things! I'm the envy of the cathood. Thank you for NOT noticing.
MK: And there are no annoying bugs in winter . . . no mosquitoes, no ants, no gnats . . . not that you care. You're scared of mosquitoes and ignore ants and gnats unless you think they're trying to kill you.
BC: Obviously. I want to save as many of my lives as possible for fun things! And there are bugs! Those white things you call snow!
BC: Speaking of bugs, are you an ant?
MK: I don't think so.
BC: Then why do the tiny people call you Ant Katherine?
MK: Those "tiny" people are my niece and nephew. I'm the female version of an uncle to them. Only it's spelled, "A-U-N-T." Not "A-N-T."
BC: Phew. I was scared you were a mutant genetic disaster. And really fat for an ant.
MK: Thanks, Bear.
BC: And you're also too lazy to be a real ant.
MK: These conversations always make me feel SOO much better.
BC: Why?
BC: Oh. You were being sarcastic.
BC: Will you rub Bear's big belly?
MK: Is your belly cold?
BC: No . . . what . . . 

Later that same day . . . 
Momma finds this picture from "The Best Cat Page" on Facebook . . . and laughs.

Within an hour {TRUE story} . . .

What ACTUALLY happened:
MK: WHA? Oh crap! Bear! I'm SOOOOOO sorry! I didn't know you were sitting behind me! I'm sorry I backed into you! Come back! I didn't mean to hurt you!
{Momma runs after Bear into the other room}
MK: {GASP} You're not HURT, are you? What? You can't be scared of me? You being scared of me is the worst thing that could happen! I can't take this! Please forgive me! Here! I'm putting out my hand! I swear I won't hurt you! Sniff my hand! Let me pet you! PLEASE?!?!
{Bear runs in his corner, hiding under his cat tree . . . and Momma follows . . . again}
MK: OH! This is even worse than I thought! You don't have to hide in your corner! Don't be afraid of me! I can't take that! PLEASE come out! Please let me pet you! I'll do anything!!!  I promise I won't hurt you! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I'LL DO ANYTHING!!! Please let me love you! I'm SOOOO sorry. I'm a horrible Momma! A horrible person!
MK: Oooooh. Whisker loves. See? Momma's not going to hurt you! I love you, Bear! I'm so sorry I backed into you without realizing you were there!

DramaCat (what Bear MIGHT hear):
MK: Bear! I'm NOT sorry! Serves you right for sneaking up behind me! I should have stepped on you too! Come back! I want to kill you!
{Momma menacingly chases Bear into the other room}
MK: You're not hurt? Damn! You SHOULD be scared of me! VERY scared! You have no idea of what I'm capable of! You not being scared of me is foolish! FEEL my POWER! I rule this house! I'm the boss! I bet you're stupid enough to sniff the hand I'm putting out so I can finish the job! {Cackles} I swear I'll get you this time! Sniff my hand! Let me pet you! I want to KILL you as painfully and cruelly as possible!
{Bear runs in his corner, hiding under his cat tree . . . cowering in fear and Momma evilly pursues him, again}
MK: OH! You MUST die! You think you're so smart hiding in your corner . . . but I will GET you! It's only a matter of time! I'll wait forever! You should be afraid of me! I WILL have your beautiful plumage! Come out! It's no use to resist! I'll do anything to kill you!!!  I promise I'll make it as painful as possible! I'm not scared of you! I'm proud of my nefarious and malevolent intentions! I'm a horrible Momma! A horrible person! And I'm NOT sorry! My only regret is that I can only kill you once!
MK: Oooooh. I see I have lured you with your weakness for ear rubs. Just wait . . . I will bide my time . . . your end is near! Hahaha!
OR . . .
DiaboliCat (what Bear MIGHT think):
MK: WHA? Oh crap! Bear! I'm sorry! I didn't know you were sitting behind me! I'm sorry I backed into you! Come back! I didn't mean to hurt you!
BC: {thinking} Moron! Watch where you're going! Can humans be any stupider? Or more annoying? Clumsy oafs! Of course, I sat here quietly . . . just waiting for her to back into me . . . how else am I going to guilt her into TREATS!?!?!
{Momma runs after Bear into the other room}
MK: {GASP} You're not HURT, are you? What? You can't be scared of me? You being scared of me is the worst thing that could happen! I can't take this! Please forgive me! Here! I'm putting out my hand! I swear I won't hurt you! Sniff my hand! Let me pet you! PLEASE?!?!
BC: {thinking} You're pathetic! And weak! Grab hold of yourself woman! I will make you regret your existence before we're done! Note to self: act very scared . . . dubious . . . make her think she's crushed your soul . . .
{Bear runs in his corner, hiding under his cat tree . . . and Momma follows . . . again}
MK: OH! This is even worse than I thought! You don't have to hide in your corner! Don't be afraid of me! I can't take that! PLEASE come out! Please let me pet you! I'll do anything!!!  I promise I won't hurt you! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I'LL DO ANYTHING!!! Please let me love you! I'm SOOOO sorry. I'm a horrible Momma! A horrible person!
BC: {thinking} Don't shove your stupid hand in my face! {sigh} So annoying! These humans are ridiculous! Like I'd be scared of your dumb butt! Phht! I have claws and fangs! I could drop you easily and have you crying out in agony! Okay. This has been fun, but I think I've had enough. TREAT TIME! If I play this JUST right, I'll probably get TREATS AND ear rubs. "Let" her pet me in 5, and 4. and 3. and . . . tentative now . . . going for hesitant and skeptical . . . 2, and 1!
MK: Oooooh. Whisker loves. See? Momma's not going to hurt you! I love you, Bear! I'm so sorry I backed into you without realizing you were there!
BC: {thinking} Another day, another show.  She makes it too easy. What a wimp. And a sucker. Works every single time! And here it comes . . . 
MK: Treats?
BC: {thinking} FINALLY!

What do you think about the second half of this post? Do you enjoy the conjectures about the feline mind? Should I do more?