Saturday, April 30, 2016

"Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 21

Ever wonder about what conversations occur in the Momma Kat household? Did you miss any of the daily "conversations" posted to our Facebook page within the last three weeks? Included in this cycle: the series about disguises, how to save a life, Momma's back, and, as usual, lots of other snarky and dramatic randomness.

See the previous collections of shorter "conversations," like the ones posted below
Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16Part 17Part 18, Part 19, and Part 20.

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 wet paws:
MK: What do you expect if you manage to get out after it rains!?!?!
BC: You don't understand: MY PAWS are WET!
MK: Wipe them on the carpet!
BC: But . . . but . . . they're still WET!
MK: SERIOUSLY, Bear? You go around acting all tough-pants-y but a little water on your paws is intolerable?
MK: Oh, for crying . . . come here, I've got a towel.
{Momma dries Bear's paws}
MK: Oops. I forgot to get the mail while I was out.
{Momma opens the front door and Bear runs outside}
MK: Really, Bear? I mean, REALLY?!?! Didn't we JUST talk about this?
BC: My paws are wet. AGAIN!
MK: Yeah, smarty-pants. It's wet outside. Even a stupid human gets that.
MK: Bear! WHAT THE HELL? You asked for help. I picked you up and carried you inside!
BC: I want to go outside.
MK: I feel like Sisyphus!
BC: Yeah. You ARE a sissy. You think a little water is going to hurt me? Phht! I'm tough!
MK: You want to go outside?
{Pause while Momma lets Bear out}
BC: Mooommmmma! HEEEEEELLLP! My paws are . . . .

On disguises - part 1, the food fairy:
BC: Meow ... grrrr ... {Bear's paws move as if he's running} ... 'ow ... 'rr ...
BC: Hmm . . . {lick, lick, lick.} {Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick.}
MK: Are you awake now?
BC: No.
BC: Rats!
MK: What were you dreaming about?
BC: I was hunting a ginormous juicy buffalo!
MK: Is there any other kind?
BC: Not in my dreams, no.
MK: Did you catch him?
BC: Charles?
MK: Charles who?
BC: THE BUFFALO! Pay attention!
MK: Don't you find it odd that you name your prey? It would seem to be personifying him and making him less of food and more of a, well, person.
BC: He's NOT a person! He's a BUFFALO! You can only buffalo-fy a buffalo!
MK: Never mind. You're cute.
BC: WHAT?!?!? CUTE?!?!? I'm a ferocious hunter, lady! Ruthless, relentless, SAVAGE! Voracious! Brutal! Merciless! Truculent. Truculent isn't a very scary word, is it?
MK: If you hear it and don't know its meaning, no. It almost sounds sweet. Or maybe hesitant?
BC: PUGNACIOUS! Or is that only for pugs?
MK: No. A cat can be pugnacious.
BC: Opprobrious!
BC: Did you see which way Charles went?
MK: You were dreaming, remember? Why would you be on my bed if you were really chasing a buffalo?
BC: HUNTING. I was HUNTING a buffalo. But I felt putrescent so I had to suspend the hunt to clean my paw. If you don't already understand, I can't explain it to you.
MK: There are so many things I could say here, but . . .
BC: Which way?
MK: He went that way.
BC: That's what I thought! BYE!
MK: I think I just had my first run-by buffalo-ing!
BC: {from the other room} Charles? CHARLES?!?! Where did you go, you frisky devil? It's time for me to eat you! When I get to my food bowl, you better be in there! Or else I'll . . . I'll . . . I'll be really, REALLY mad!
BC: {at his food bowl} Damn buffaloes! Never listening to directions!
MK: {laughing}.
BC: What? What's so funny?
MK: YOU. You do realize hunting involves, err . . . actually HUNTING, right? I mean, you don't just expect the animal to flop down in your food bowl, right?
BC: How ELSE would it get there? That's how my fishy gets there! And my chicken! And my turkey! They know their place. I demand their presence and POOF!
MK: A food fairy.
BC: EXACTLY! But the food fairy is disguised as you. And she's awfully stingy with the noms. And grumpy.
MK: You and your disguises.
BC: NO! I don't wear the disguises! The dog disguises himself as a vacuum. The tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguise themselves as pigeons. The tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised-as-pigeons baby fairy disguises himself as Sylvilagus floridanus, otherwise known as the Easter Bunny. AND the food fairy disguises herself as you.
MK: Oh, Bear.

NOTE: What's this business with disguises? See the following conversation to read about the dog in disguise as a vacuum. You can read about the other creatures in disguise in the 'On the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy' series toward the bottom of this blog post: "Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 20

On disguises - part 2, the dog:
BC: I really hate the dog.
MK: What dog?
BC: OUR dog.
MK: We don't have a dog, Bear.
BC: I know a dog when I see one.
MK: We don't have a dog.
BC: Then what's that vile thing on a leash that you keep in the coat closet?
MK: What?
BC: The beast that's so ravenous, scary, and ferocious that you only let him out every couple months for your ritual sacrifice to his belly!
MK: Ummm . . .
BC: And you ONLY let him out on a leash! His bark is so loud, relentless, savage, and murderous that I stress-molt the second he opens his nefarious jaws. He inhales everything in his path!
MK: Months . . . sacrifice . . . leash . . . loud bark . . . the VACUUM?
BC: Is that his name? I bet if I look "Vacuum" up in the dictionary, they'll show a picture of his malevolent visage.
MK: The vacuum isn't alive.
BC: He always tries to eat me! And a few times, you've pried my toys from his rapacious, gluttonous, and insatiable jaws! He spends an inordinate amount of time in my cat tree corner . . . lying in wait for my juicy loins!
MK: Ummm . . . no. He sucks up all your shedded fur so you don't have hairballs.
BC: I'm not stupid! My fur only inflates his cravings for my delectable essence.
MK: The vacuum doesn't care whether your essence is delectable or not. It's not a dog. And it's not alive.
BC: How do you know? Maybe he's a dog in disguise.
MK: I think you vastly overestimate the prevalence of disguises.
BC: I think you're in cahoots - and humans take their revenge on our feline superiority by letting these beasts do unspeakable things to us.
MK: What has the vacuum done to you again?
BC: Nothing. It's what he's TRIED to do. You've seen the way he looks at me! If he's so harmless, why do you only let him out with the leash?
MK: The "leash" isn't to restrain him, it's to provide power to a machine. No power means no vacuum.
BC: So you're saying that if I chew through the leash, it will stop the gluttonous monstrosity in his tracks and NOT set him free to devour everything including your simple-minded ignorance?
MK: If you chew through the "leash" it won't end so well for you.
BC: You mean because he'll lacerate my sweet flesh?
MK: I think you'll find he has a shocking personality that you never expected.
BC: I'm not the one that underestimates that depraved degenerate.
MK: Right. What happened with the toaster?
BC: Another monster! He tried to eat me!
MK: Noooooooooo. You stuck your paw where it didn't belong and it got stuck. If you leave these "beasts" alone, they won't hurt you.
BC: So you concede that they have the potential to hurt me?
MK: Only if you go around chewing on their leashes . . . err . . . CORDS! Or sticking your paw where it doesn't belong.
BC: But my paw belongs everywhere because I OWN this house. I OWN you. The reach of my iron paw extends everywhere! And I don't like sharing my home with a dog disguised as a machine. At least you don't snuggle up with him or give him MY loves! And he's CERTAINLY not as handsome or as sexy or as adorable as I am. Do I need to remind you that I'm an only child?
MK: {sigh} You're right.
BC: WHAT?!?!
MK: Remember Kitty?
BC: The other cat that lived with you when I was adopted?
MK: Yes. I used my magic to turn her into the vacuum because she didn't listen to me.
BC: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Holy crap! I knew I'd heard that roar before!
BC: He-he. You're kidding.
MK: And the toaster? The cat before Kitty. POOF! The refrigerator? The cat before that. POOF! The washer and dryer? Twin kitties I had a long, long time ago. POOF! POOF!
BC: Haha. Very funny. You're just messing with me.
BC: Right?
MK: I've always wanted a blender. Or a food processor? Huh. Maybe the NEXT cat for that one. A blender it is!
BC: You're an evil, EVIL Momma!
BC: Ha ha. VERY funny. NOT!

On disguises - part 3, the bird:
BC: What's thaaaaaaaat?
MK: Bear! Come out from under the bed!
BC: The dying bird might eat me!
MK: DYING bird might eat YOU.
BC: You never know! A healthy bird might be disguised as a dying bird.
MK: OH, NOW I've heard it ALL.
BC: This isn't funny!
MK: The sound you heard was me trying to whistle.
BC: What?
MK: I used to be able to whistle and it hit me that I haven't whistled in a really long time. I need some practice.
BC: You're in disguise as a dying bird? You look the same.
MK: Here . . . listen . . .
MK: {sigh of resignation} Now you don't have to worry about it eating you.
BC: But I should have gotten a taste! After you un-lifed it of course.
BC: This is still VERY disturbing! Humans don't eat ANIMALS!
MK: What do we eat, then?
BC: Everyone knows that! I'm not stupid! FOOD!
MK: {sigh} I'm SOOOO glad we have these conversations.
BC: I'm NOT! Why do I always get the feeling that you're laughing at me deep inside?
BC: ARE you laughing at me deep inside, Momma?
BC: MooommMMMA!
MK: If I say yes, can I laugh out loud instead?

On disguises - part 4, tuna (Momma's deception):
MK: HOLY CRAP! Where did you come from?
BC: A little jumpy, are we? That means you must have TUNA!
MK: Err . . .
MK: No . . .
BC: This brand must not have the pop-top . . . I didn't hear one . . . but tuna is TUNA!!!
MK: No . . . it's . . . err . . SPINACH!
BC: In that tiny can?
MK: Haha. The tuna is disguised as spinach.
BC: So it is TUNA!
MK: Damn. I meant the spinach is disguised as tuna.
BC: Don't be ridiculous! Spinach could NEVER pull off a TUNA-grade disguise.
BC: Fork it over! I like spinach too!
MK: You do not.
BC: I do too! Especially spinach gravy.
MK: Spinach doesn't have gravy.
BC: Yes. IT DOES! It tastes like crab.
MK: What the . . . Are you talking about the tuna entree florentine in crab sauce?
BC: I LOVE that one!
MK: The sauce IS crab! The spinach is the tiny bits of green.
BC: Eww. That stuff tastes like . . .
MK: {feeling bad for lying to Bear about the tuna} {SIGH} Here's a bit of my luscious fishy bounty.
BC: But if it's spinach disguised as tuna, there's no fishy!
MK: I was lyin . . . KIDDING! It is tuna.
BC: Are you trying to trick me into eating spinach?
MK: {sigh} Never mind.
BC: Trick me, Momma! TRICK ME!
BC: {as Momma dumps some in a bowl} TUNA, TUNA, TUNA! TUNA for ME! Yum, yum, yum, TUNA for ME! TUNA for BEAR'S BIG BELLY! TUNA, TUNA, TUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNA!
{Bear laps up what Momma gave him}
BC: {sigh} It was spinach.
MK: WHAT?!?! No! It was the drained water from my can of tuna.
BC: I KNEW it! Fork over the REAL tuna.
MK: Damn. Your impulsiveness is rubbing off on me.
BC: TUNA. In my mouth! Right now! TUNA! TUNA! TUNA!
MK: Here.

On an unfortunately placed banana (Momma's back - part 1):
BC: Do you MIND?
MK: Are you talking to me?
BC: Who else would I be talking to? The WALL?
MK: Well, ACTUALLY . . .
BC: Szzzzzzzz!
MK: HEY! You HAVE . . .
MK: That's not very nice!
BC: Neither is your stretching!
MK: You stretch all the time!
BC: Yes. When I stretch, I'm adorable and you can barely keep your paws off me . . . when YOU stretch, you look like a rabid over-sized gorilla with a back problem and a banana up its butt.
MK: This rabid gorilla FEEDS you.
MK: I'm just trying to share my banana! Awww. Come out from under the bed.
BC: No.
MK: Not even for treats?
BC: How many?
MK: Enough.
BC: Will you keep your banana to yourself?
MK: Yes. What about my over-sized paws?
BC: To yourself!
MK: Not even ear rubs?
BC: {sigh} Maybe AFTER the treats.
MK: I think treats should buy me some pre-authorized petting time.
BC: WHAT?!?! All these years, I gave you the milk for free and I could have made you buy the cow?!?!
MK: I'm pretty sure I DID buy the cow. You have a home.
BC: Phht. You don't have to LORD it all over me!
MK: I wasn't. I was merely pointing out that I DID buy the cow.
BC: The price has increased.
MK: You can't increase the price of the cow AFTER the cow is purchased.
BC: I'm a cat. I can do WHATEVER I want.
MK: No more treats.
BC: Can I have some back scratches and a few deep belly massages?
MK: Always.
MK: I love you, Bear Cow.
BC: MOOO. But don't get any ideas, my teats don't have milk.
MK: I'm confused by all these metaphors.
BC: The, "like a rabid over-sized gorilla with a back problem and a banana up its butt," was a simile.
MK: Noted. Still confused.
BC: If you don't understand, I can't explain it to you.
MK: I'm used to not understanding stuff that's related to you.
BC: Lack of intelligence.
MK: Lack of sense.
BC: I only appear to lack sense because you lack intelligence.
MK: {sigh} You win.
BC: Like that was ever in question. Less talk-y and more pet-y.

On the fight of the century (Momma's back - part 2):
MK: Your Momma's back is killing me!
BC: My Momma?
MK: Oww.
BC: My Momma's back and she's killing you? Or my Momma's back is killing you?
MK: Your Momma's back is killing me.
BC: Wow. I've heard of cats using their claws and fangs, but I've never heard of a cat's back killing anyone!
MK: What?
BC: My real Momma must miss me to come all the way from Virginia to get me!
BC: I wonder if her hunting skills are better than your cat food purchasing skills?
BC: Silly question. If she's tough enough to kill you with just her back, she must be an exquisite hunter! Now I know where I got my excellent ninja and take-down skills from!
BC: Are you dead yet? Because I could use some tasty whole chickens in my belly right now. I KNOW my real Momma could hunt them for me!
MK: The only "Momma" here is me . . . I was talking about myself in the third person.
BC: There's a third person here? Or you mean third living thing, including my real Momma?
MK: Neither. You know how you often say, "Bear doesn't share," or "Bear doesn't negotiate?"
BC: Obviously to both!
MK: Well, I was talking about myself in the same way.
BC: Because my real Momma is killing you.
MK: ARG! Your real Momma isn't here! I meant MY back is killing me!
BC: WHOAAAA! You know how to kill people with your back? Cool!
MK: You know what? Never mind. My back hurts.
BC: So you said . . . OBVIOUSLY, if your back was killing you, it would hurt.
BC: Is that like when you say "You're a pain in my butt!"? Because I'm not REALLY trying to kill you . . . or AM I?
MK: Now my head hurts.
BC: Whoa! This must be a nasty fight! Can I watch?
MK: I'm going to lay down for awhile.
BC: To rest up for the next round? That makes sense.

On cat litter debauchery (Momma's back - part 3):
BC: Ummm . . . Momma? What are you doing?
MK: Stretching my back; it really hurts!
BC: So the 'rabid over-sized gorilla with a back problem and a banana up its butt' strikes again! Is the stretching part of your iniquities or did you hurt your back participating in your iniquities?
MK: My back's been messed up since I was in high school - even before the cracked rib - but sometimes it flares up more than usual. Add to that all the tension and anxiety that resides in my neck and upper back and life can be pretty miserable. I went to a physical therapist for awhile and she told me the tightness in my back and resulting lack in my range of motion was the worst she'd ever seen.
BC: Are you STILL talking? All I hear is blah, blah, blah, BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ . . . is there a mosquito in here? Or is there just a bunch of EXTRANEOUS, UNSOLICITED, and MUNDANE information floating around?
MK: This flare up started the night after you had your molar removed. I built the snuggle nest for us on the floor since you weren't supposed to jump, but it was KILLING my back. Yet I refused to move because you'd FINALLY settled down and were sleeping so soundly wrapped in my arms.
BC: Oh, NO! Don't implicate ME in your iniquitous activities! I'm just a cute little kitty cat.
MK: Your little chin rested on my upper arm . . . with both of my arms folded around you, holding you tightly to my chest. That was really . . . .
MK: OWWW! What was that for?!?!
BC: So now sappiness is added to your list of iniquities?
MK: Bear. For the love of monkey blossoms! I don't have any iniquities.
MK: Okay. Okay. Except for my Kit Kat habit.
MK: Oh, FINE! And how much I love you and embarrass you without meaning to.
BC: You got the @$$ part right! Oh, and by the way, I've noted your cat litter habit.
MK: WHAT?!?!
BC: A few days ago, you carried in four large tubs of litter.
MK: (BLEEP)! You're right! THAT'S why my back is so much worse all of a sudden. I bought all of that . . .
BC: NO! NO! Don't tell me! I don't want to know what kind of iniquities you participate in! Especially with CAT LITTER. I'd be an accessory! Or an enabler! I'd never be able to look at my litter box the same EVER AGAIN!
MK: The litter was on sale! And you're full of $#!+. Thus the need for more litter.
BC: Wait a . . . you bought a bunch more of that different brand of litter? For me?
MK: It clumps better.
BC: You didn't ask me my opinion! Unless YOU tested it!
MK: Do you have a problem with the different litter?
BC: No. But what if I did? I don't like change.
MK: Neither do I; you know I'm loyal in that once I trust a product, I stick with it. But I have to admit that trying this different brand was not only a good deal, but is better than your old brand of litter. I never thought I'd buy 140 pounds of litter at one time . . . but it's not my biggest purchase. I think that was 200 pounds; no, actually that was 100 pounds each a couple days apart.
BC: And you felt weird the first time you bought me the sixteen pound bag of cat food.
MK: We've got two of those right now too.
BC: So why is my food bowl empty?
MK: It's not. I filled it earlier today.
MK: Want my banana?
BC: Never mind. You keep your banana and all you other iniquities to yourself! I curse all you wayward humans who try to corrupt us sweet kittens to your path of wickedness, malfeasance . . .
BC: . . . and debauchery.
MK: Couldn't get all that out with a straight face, could you?
BC: Oh, shut up!
MK: I love you, my sweet kitten.
BC: I love you, my rabid over-sized gorilla with a back problem and a banana up its butt.

On pre-nap maulings:
BC: MoooommmmmmMMMA! When are we going to take our nap?
MK: "We" already did.
BC: No. WE did not! Or you didn't tell me about it!
MK: Remember the two hours you batted around your cat-shaped toy with the bell inside?
BC: Well, yes! I wanted to be fed but you were . . . crap. Sleeping.
MK: Uh huh.
BC: I was trying to wake you up because the dishwasher was done and my bowl was in the dishwasher and I was STARVING.
MK: {sigh} All the food from your bowl was dumped on your mat . . . and I just dumped it back in the bowl when the dishwasher was done . . . so you were starving yourself because the food didn't change and was always there.
BC: But you didn't tell me you were taking a nap! You could have been more emphatic!
MK: Right. A) You were trying to wake me up so you KNEW I was sleeping, and B) I did tell you . . . SEVERAL times. The only other thing I could have done is carried you to bed with me . . . and just . . . NO! I really don't like a pre-nap mauling. Blood gets all over the sheets and it's just a big mess, not to mention painful.
BC: You act like that's happened before! Err . . . except for that one time . . . and that time . . . and RATS!
MK: Yes. Humans LEARN from their misfortunes.
BC: Cats learn . . . ALL THE TIME!
MK: Oh?
BC: I know that the best way to get you out of bed is to do my extra-super transcendent dramatic barf. Or stick my wet nose in your ear. The kitty/bell ploy didn't work so well for me today.
MK: Let me rephrase that. Cats only learn when it suits them.
BC: Oh, yeah? I . . . we . . . hmmm . . . I HATE YOU!
MK: Have you ever noticed that when I say something that's true, that you don't like, you always spout off, "I HATE YOU!"
BC: I HATE . . . RATS!
MK: Thank goodness we don't depend on you for our income.
BC: What's that supposed to mean?
MK: Any time your boss would talk to you, you'd tell him or her that you hate her or him. And you'd be fired.
BC: But you're NOT my boss! That's different!
MK: I like NOT being homeless.
BC: It's not so bad . . .
BC: Though it's kind of cold . . . and you spend a lot of time being hungry . . . and there's no one to snuggle with whenever you demand snuggling . . . I guess I'll keep you. And the house. Or the house minus you - assuming I get the food. That'd be okay.
MK: Uh huh.
BC: Is this going to affect our cuddle time? I swear! I tell the truth and you always get mad at me.
BC: Hmph. I don't know WHAT you're talking about.
MK: Nice.
BC: I couldn't resist.
MK: You never can.

On round-trips:
MK: Come 'ere cuddle bug!
BC: No touching! No touching!
MK: My chin in just resting on your backbone!
BC: Number 1 - No touching. Number 2 - No touching. Number 3 - No touching. Number 4 - No touching. Number 5 - No touching. Number 6 - No touching. Number 7 - No touching. Number 8 - No touching. Number 9 - No touching. Guess what number 10 is?!?
MK: No touching?
BC: Are you even paying attention? I already SAID no touching!
MK: Sorry?
BC: If number 10 was no touching, I'd appear slightly prickly, affected, and disagreeable. Not to mention redundant.
MK: You? Prickly? Affected? Disagreeable? NO!
BC: You forgot about redundant!
MK: Never!
BC: Hmph. That's right!
MK: So what's number 10?
BC: Number 10 what?
MK: Of your list.
BC: What list?
MK: That you started a few minutes ago . . . no touching.
BC: I don't remember. You can't expect me to remember the conditions under which I was living a few minutes ago!
MK: Good point. You go from lover kitty to biter kitty in less than three seconds.
BC: HEY! I've gotten it down to one second!
MK: True.
BC: I can do a whole ROUND TRIP in three seconds!

On how to save a life - part 1:
BC: NO! You're trying to KILL me! In cold blood! By brutal means! LET ME GO!!!!
MK: I'm trying to find your femoral artery!
MK: I read this article . . .
MK: . . . About how to give cats CPR. You're lucky I don't feel the need to practice mouth-to-mouth!
BC: NO. YOU'RE lucky you don't feel the need to practice mouth-to-mouth!
MK: Good point. If I tried to practice mouth-to-mouth on you, I'D need resuscitation.
MK: The article said to take your pulse, I need to find the femoral artery. I figure that if you DO have an emergency and I don't know where to feel for the femoral artery, I won't know the difference between the wrong spot and no pulse. I'm just trying to figure out WHERE this sucker is but you're squirming! It could save your life!
BC: That's why cats have NINE lives! So you don't need to give us CPR! Well, and your humans' general incompetence that would lead to VERY short lives for us cats if we only had one life.
BC: Why can't you just be normal? OH! And by the way? MY LIFE DOESN'T REQUIRE SAVING!
MK: But it COULD at some point in the future.
MK: Ummm . . . yeah! THAT'S THE POINT!
BC: But . . . umm . . . hmm. I . . . you . . . hmmm. You love me!
BC: Oh.
BC: So you're not trying to kill me.
MK: {sigh} No, Bear.
BC: Huh. So you mean that when my food bowl is empty or you don't feed me enough or you don't let me have fun or you brush my teeth or you clip my claws or you take me to the vet or you don't wake up right away when I require attention or you don't let me go outside when I want to, it's NOT that you're trying to kill me on purpose . . . you're just incompetent?
MK: Err . . . I guess.
BC: And you still love me even when I destroy stuff?
MK: Yes.
BC: Oh.
BC: I love you too, Momma. Despite your incompetence.
MK: Thank you . . .
MK: I think.

For more information on feline CPR:

On how to save a life - part 2:
BC: You know yesterday when you were trying to find my moral cavity so you could take my pulse?
MK: FEM-moral. ARTERY. But I might stick with "moral cavity" . . . it's oddly appropriate.
BC: Whatever. So you mentioned mouth-to-mouth resuscitation . . . if you have an emergency, I'm NOT giving you mouth-to-mouth . . . just so we're clear on boundaries.
MK: It probably wouldn't help anyway.
BC: What?!?! Are you saying I'm not CAPABLE of giving mouth-to-mouth?
MK: No. I'm saying your lungs are much smaller than mine so it'd be hard for you to get enough air in my lungs.
BC: Come here!
MK: What?
BC: I'm going to give you mouth-to-mouth.
MK: Ummm . . . huh?
MK: Bear! You just blew in my face. That's not mouth-to-mouth. Mouth-to-mouth requires mouth TO mouth.
BC: Eww.
MK: That's okay. If I have an emergency you're probably better off calling 911.
BC: Who's 911?
MK: That's the number, not the name of a person. We should probably discuss what constitutes an emergency though.
BC: DUH! I'm not STUPID!
BC: Let's see . . . when I need my litter box scooped . . . when my food bowl is more than eighteen percent empty . . . when my favorite mousie is stuck under the couch . . . when you won't wake up and pet me . . . when I require worship and admiration . . . when I require cuddles . . . when I need someone to play with me . . .
MK: That's what I was afraid of.
BC: What number do I call again?
MK: Never mind.
BC: Wait! I want to practice.
MK: Bear! No.
MK: {sigh} Oh for the love of . . . you don't scream it out loud you pain in the butt . . . you use the phone.
BC: Oh.
{Bear walks off . . . thirty minutes pass . . . Momma remembers a call she needs to make . . . }
MK: What the? Where's the phone? It's ALWAYS in the charger!
MK: Oh (BLEEP)! BEAR! {Momma runs around frantically looking for the phone and the cat}.
BC: {faintly from somewhere in Momma's walk-in closet} Where's my emergency? My house! Where ELSE would my Momma be holding me hostage against my will? What an idiotic question! I can't BELIEVE an emergency line would be answered by stupid humans!
BC: What's my emergency? My food bowl is twenty-one percent empty!
BC: YES! As a matter of fact, I AM a cat! What does that have to do with anything?
MK: BEAR! So help me! I'm going to kill you when I find you!
{Momma finally finds Bear hidden in the hanging clothes . . . }
BC: MY MOMMA'S ABOUT TO MURDER ME! You heard her say she'd kill me when she found me! And she found me! {Click!}.
MK: You DID NOT just do that.
BC: Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.
{The phone rings . . . }
MK: BEAR! {Momma answers and explains the situation . . .}
MK: Huh. She said they get those kinds of calls from cats all the time.
BC: SEE! And you tried to tell me it wasn't an emergency!

On climbing and shredding:
BC: What?
{Momma turns around to find Bear sitting in the middle of the hallway}
MK: What are you doing?
BC: I was just sitting here, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY, minding my own business . . . and all of a sudden your piles of magazines in the second bedroom EXPLODED! With NO warning!
{Momma closely considers this . . .}
MK: Hmmm. You WERE in the hall . . . and it looked like you'd been sitting there for awhile . . . which means you didn't knock the piles over . . . but why am I suspicious none-the-less?
BC: Because I've purposely knocked the piles over before? Oooh. And then there are the times I've climbed the piles without MEANING to knock them over . . .
BC: You wouldn't have this problem if you didn't order every free subscription you find! You don't even READ the magazines! And don't get me started on the hunting one . . . YOU DON'T EVEN BELIEVE IN HUNTING! And the fashion and makeup ones . . . in the past five years, you've MAYBE worn makeup five times . . . and you don't buy new clothes. Your best chance of being fashionable is if something that you've owned for a long time comes BACK in fashion! Or if cat-torn holes in clothing come into fashion. And YET, you order every single magazine you see offered for free!
MK: That's not entirely fair, Bear. I stopped doing that like six months ago.
BC: YEAH! Because the magazines were about to take over the house!
MK: {sigh} Bear, they don't even take up one CORNER of one ROOM. Your cat tree takes up more room. Your LITTER BOX takes up more floor space.
BC: But I USE my litter box. And I USE my cat tree!
MK: And you USE the magazines for climbing!
MK: And there are at least a few that look remarkably similar to paper you've released your furry fury on.
BC: There are plenty of other things to shred or climb around here that I'm not supposed to climb or shred!
MK: Oh?
BC: Rats! RATS! RATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On word play:
BC: ICK! What is THAT SMELL?!?! Nono! Don't touch me! Don't touch me! It's on your hands! Odorous! Odoriferous! Putrid! Abominable! Fetid! Foul! ICK to the NTH power! Icky INFINITY! An icky AFF-inity!
MK: The smell is coconut.
BC: Why are you rubbing this noxious nuts of cocoa on your hands?
MK: No, co-CO-nut; a fruit. It's hand lotion, Bear.
BC: You make lotion out of nuts of cocoa? Why would you voluntarily slather food all over yourself?
MK: This from the cat that rolled in a dead ant pile. And has a penchant for rolling in dirt.
BC: Haha. Those are CLASSIC! The look on your face! You running toward me with arms flailing and a panicked expression on your face . . . cracks me up EVERY TIME! And then afterwards, when you keep stealing glances at me because you REALLY want to give me a bath, but you're too scared! Or lazy. Or lazy AND scared.
MK: I'm so glad I entertain you.
BC: If you can't resist slathering food all over yourself, at least make it gravy or tuna! NO! Tasty whole chickens! Not FRUIT. Like you aren't FRUIT-y enough already! You have enough fruit for a fruit SALAD! You have enough fruit for a fruit BASKET! You're a BASKET case! And you're already NUT-ty enough too! A NUT CASE! A fruity-nut! Nuts of fruit! Ha ha ha hahahaha. Momma's a fruity-nut! {SNORT!}
BC: AHHHHHHHHHHHH! Numnumnumnumnumnum! {CHOMP}.
MK: ARG! What the hell, Bear?
BC: If you cover yourself in food, you must be food too, right? Maybe a parfait? Come here, tasty Momma parfait!
BC: Whoa! Momma got a 'tude! A hiss with meaning!
MK: Which means I couldn't have POSSIBLY learned it from you. You know, it just hit me . . . you do everything whole-heartedly BUT hiss. Your hiss is more of an afterthought and not very intimidating. I don't even see your fangs.
BC: You want to see my fangs?
MK: Can you stop trying to eat me now?
BC: A trifle? Oooooh! YES! You're a trifle!!!! Notice the clever play on words!
MK: {sigh}.
BC: As a trifle, you're a layered fruit dessert, but also a thing of little value or importance!
MK: Bear, when you have to explain it, it's not funny.
BC: But you're not smart enough to get my jokes! Otherwise you'd be LAUGHING!
BC: A thing of little importance . . . like a mosquito! HUSH annoying mosquito! I'll whack you with my tail!
MK: Are you done sticking your butt in my face?
BC: Are you done trying to masquerade as a food? Unless you want to be a tuna. Or a tasty whole chicken! A cat and his noms are never parted! Then I can unleash my feline furry fury AND have a snack at the same time! Isn't that what you humans call "faulty tasking?" You know, where you try to do six things at once and always lose your place or forget you're in the middle of something?
{Paws . . . err, pause.}
BC: EEESH. All this word PLAY is wearing. I need to put up my paws for a nap!

On bug wrangling:
MK: ZZZZZZ . . . Wha? Sleep, slee . . . TST TST . . . ZZZZZZZZZZ.
BC: You many-legged monster! {SNNNNNNNNORT!}
MK: {now wide awake} What's going on?
BC: Nothing.
MK: Bear?
BC: You wouldn't understand.
MK: Bear?
BC: You don't want to know.
MK: What are you doing?
BC: What do you mean, "what are you doing?"
MK: First, you bunny-kicked me in the head when you jumped up from sleeping on my chest. Now you're snorting, which can only mean you're about to unleash your ultimate furry fury on some unsuspecting something or someone. Go figure that your snorting wakes me up . . . probably from being attacked in my sleep more than a few times.
MK: Bear?
BC: Do you mind? I'm busy!
MK: What do you . . .
BC: Stay back! I'm dealing with a heathen capable of a multitude of evil. This battle requires more skill and cunning than you possess. Knave of bugdom! Fiend of hell! Hellion! Scoundrel!
MK: ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGG! For the love of zebra waffles! LET GO of my ankle! BEAR!
BC: I have a build up of feline furry fury prompted by the many-legged malevolent beast. Since you insisted on removing him from the picture, my wrath was not satisfied. Yes, you're fat and slow, but I believe I've neutralized the threat.
MK: {sigh} You can let go now.
BC: Oh. Right. I'M NOT SORRY!
MK: I wouldn't expect you to be.
BC: I want my bug!
MK: He's gone.
BC: What do you mean, "he's gone?" A bug can't just disappear!
MK: He's dead.
BC: How do you know? You're not exactly the expert on these things.
MK: You're not allowed to torture bugs. How would you like it if you were tortured by a bigger animal?
BC: But I'm adorable and useful and virile . . . bugs are . . . buggy!
MK: Welcome to bug season!
BC: You weren't very welcoming to that bug! Now he'll never come back!
MK: He's DEAD, Bear! Unless he's some type of "Jesus" bug.
BC: Those exist?
MK: I don't think so.
BC: SEE! You're NOT the expert on these things! Give my bug back!
MK: {sigh} Here.
BC: BUT HE'S NOT MOVING!!! Make him move! He has to move!
BC: Hey! Stupid bug! Momma! MooooooooooommmMMMA! The bug isn't listening to me! I don't like this! Move! Move! Something's wrong with him! He wasn't this flat before, was he? Did you turn him off? Could his batteries be low? Is he under warranty? I DEMAND he be sent back to the bug factory!
MK: Yeah. I'll get on that right now.
BC: Thank you!
BC: Is he fixed yet?
MK: {sigh}. No.
BC: Now?
MK: No. Tomorrow.
BC: But I might forget about him by then!
MK: Devastated. I'm sure he'll be devastated!
BC: I'll find another bug . . . a BIGGER bug . . . a FASTER bug . . . in about fifteen minutes after I take a nap. Bug wrangling is EXHAUSTING!

On the switch (or not):
BC: Giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle. SNORT! Giggle, giggle.
BC: Thank goodness you don't have to turn ME on every morning right after you get out of bed!
MK: Wha . . . (BLEEP)!
BC: No! Don't stop! I want to take a picture of you stabbing at the Kleenex box to try to turn it on!
MK: HEY! The Kleenex box sits ON TOP of the desktop tower. I just feel for the button . . . but my aim was off.
BC: This incident was EVEN BETTER than earlier this week when you tried to flip the switch on the front of the refrigerator!
MK: I was looking for the light switch!
BC: Except that the front of the refrigerator is on the opposite side AND opposite end of the kitchen as the light switch! And that doesn't even include the GAZILLION crazy things you do when you're "awake."
MK: Whatever.
BC: How many times have you put dirty dishes in the refrigerator? Or the glass you just used in the pantry?
MK: HEY! I carry a bunch of things back to the kitchen at once . . . sometimes I just don't match the item with the proper location right away!
BC: How did your dirty clothes get in the refrigerator? Then there . . .
BC: . . . was the time you put all your wet clean clothes in the dryer but forgot to turn it on . . . until an HOUR later when you noticed the dryer wasn't running and you thought it was done. Or the times . . .
BC: . . . that you looked all over for the caps to my toothpaste or your soda bottles only to discover that you'd already screwed them back on.
MK: {sigh} Sometimes I wouldn't MIND if you had an off switch.
BC: Let's see . . . then there's the time . . . . . . . . . . {Bear continues to recount all the strange things Momma's done in the ten years they've lived together}.

On poop vs. kibble:
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH . . . {leaping on the bed} OOF!
BC: Don't worry, Momma! As soon as it's safe, I'll come out from under the bed and call 911 for assistance!
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! {Bouncing off a wall} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! {Bouncing off another wall} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
BC: Why? WHY?!?! WHY ME?!?! My Momma's finally lost what little sanity she had left! She's running all over the place and bouncing off the walls! How can I survive this catastrophe? Oh woe! Oh, kitty gods! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!?! What did I do to deserve this? WHAT?!?! Is it because I used to play fetch? Or because I'm a snuggle-loving kitty? Maybe because I come when called? Or because I meet my Momma at the door? NO! It MUST be because of my excessive handsomeness and sexiness . . . the kitty gods are JEALOUS that I'm TOO sexy and they're trying to DESTROY me! {GASP} SURELY, they wouldn't make me answerable to the dog gods, right? A fate WORSE than death! OH NO! I have the urge to chase my own tail! And eat my own poop! MY HUMILIATION IS COMPLETE!
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
BC: It's safe under here. Oh, kitty woes! How can I suck my thumb for comfort when I do not possess any thumbs? Don't panic . . . the bed will keep me safe . . . this can't last forever, right?
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH . . .
MK: {leaping on the bed, under which Bear is hiding} OOF!
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
MK: {ears perk up, looks both directions, sniffs the air, eyes go wide, face crumples with alarm} {runs toward Bear} AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
BC: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! A rabid Momma attack! That's it! My life is over! Bye, cruel world!
MK: {launches herself over the couch and Bear, then keeps running in the other direction.}
MK: {plopping down on the floor} PUFF, PUFF, SIGH.

BC: {nosing out from under his cat tree} Is it safe? {creeping toward Momma with his neck outstretched} Are you alive? {sticking a paw in Momma's face} HELLL-O?!?!
MK: {laughing hysterically}.
BC: What is WRONG with you? You think this is funny?
MK: Now you know EXACTLY what you look like with the crazies.
BC: One minute you were going to the bathroom . . . then the next thing I know . . . HEY! You're MOCKING me!
MK: I did a pretty good job, right?
BC: NO! I don't look anything like . . .
BC: I HATE YOU! I hope you hear the alien voices too someday! Then this wouldn't be funny! And I'll have you know that when I do it, it's adorable! When you do it . . . it's just weird!
MK: Don't forget to eat your poop!
BC: My mistake. It was an urge for kibble. If you ever tasted my kibble, you'd understand how easy it is to confuse the two.

On one little truth:
BC: Momma? Can I have a box?
MK: You never use the five boxes laying around here already!
BC: I need a BIG box . . . say err . . . eighty paws by err . . . forty paws?
MK: That's a REALLY big box, Bear.
BC: Give or take ten paws; I didn't measure it exactly.
MK: That's still a big box. This isn't related to mail-order tasty whole chickens, is it?
BC: MAIL-ORDER TASTY WHOLE CHICKENS EXIST? Where? I can't believe I've been deprived of this knowledge! How DARE you keep this from me!
MK: You must not be aware of the mail order tasty whole chicken farm because of all the time you spend messing around in your spam e-mail folder.
BC: HEY! That's VERY IMPORTANT business correspondence! What if a cougar REALLY DID want to meet me? And what if I REALLY DID win the African Lottery?
MK: Going somewhere?
BC: Err . . . no . . . I just need a large box for my cat tree.
BC: You didn't scoop my litter box yet today.
MK: I just got up.
BC: I know! I can't take these regrettable, substandard, and hazardous conditions! I'm packing up my stuff to go in search of a better life! Oh. And I need you to lift up the couch so I can pack all my toys.
MK: I figured you'd rather I give you your wet food treat before I scoop your litter box than waiting for your treat while I scoop your litter box.
BC: Are those the only two options?
MK: I only have two hands!
BC: Exactly! You can scoop with one hand and spoon with the other!
MK: And that would prolong both of those tasks.
BC: It's bad enough I have to bunk with a human . . . but an incompetent human?
MK: So you think you'll find a human that can scoop your litter box and spoon your food at the same time?
BC: No. OBVIOUSLY. I also require simultaneous chin and ear rubs too.
MK: That'd require AT LEAST four hands, if not six. Good luck.
BC: Where's my food?
MK: Why are you asking me? I'm the "incompetent" one.
BC: Sheesh. I tell one little truth and you get all indignant!
MK: You're a hypocrite.
BC: Excuse me? I'm a hypocrite? I'M a hypocrite? You abuse me all day, every day! Poor, poor, Bear! You can't even manage to scoop my litter box and spoon up my wet food treat at the same time! All this Bear abuse and neglect! It's a miracle I've survived! Because of you, I'm down to ONE LIFE!
BC: Wait . . . it's NOT INDIGNANCE when . . . the truth isn't . . . RATS!
BC: Step on it, will you? Oh! And get your credit card out so I can sample the yumminess of the mail order tasty whole chickens! And don't forget to scoop my litter box!
{Pause while Momma gives Bear a dirty look.}
BC: Right. I'll just be by my food bowl whenever you have my wet food treat ready.

*** If you missed the blog post on Bear's spam e-mail obsession, you may find it here: Bear Loses His Internet Privileges, Permanently.

On monkeying around:
MK: BEAR! Stop monkeying around!
BC: What's YOUR problem?
MK: I'm trying to sleep and you're (BLEEP)ing around. You're not even watching what you're doing! Because you were staring at me, to make sure I was watching you, you didn't see the crack between the bedside table and the bed . . . so you stumbled into it, freaked out, knocked half the stuff off the table, and then landed upside down on the floor!
BC: A little concern would suffice.
MK: {sigh} Are you okay?
BC: Yes. No thanks to you.
MK: How is this MY fault?
BC: If you were paying attention to me, I wouldn't have had to get your attention.
MK: I'm trying to sleep!
BC: Exactly!
MK: If I disturb you while you're trying to sleep, you get ticked off.
BC: That's different.
MK: Oh?
BC: You know better.
MK: So you're pleading ignorance?
BC: No. I'm just uninterested in your opinion.
MK: Thanks.
BC: You're welcome.
BC: Oh. Sarcasm. How original.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

"Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 20

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 bird buddy, Fred. As you'll read in the 
The Fred FilesFred sits on top of the storage shed on Momma's front porch and "talks" loudly and incessantly. Bear listens to him intently and watches his every move (from the safety of his cat tree, inside the house). And with anything Bear-related, a bit of drama ensues.

The other blog posts in this cycle, if you missed them: 
* Claws and Fangs at Play (homemade edition)In this post, I share the homemade toys I've come up with to keep Bear entertained. All of the creations shown are very easy to make and don't require much skill. They also can be adapted to whatever you have - and require little beyond every day household items that you'd normally throw away.
Understanding Momma Kat and Her Bear Cat (for our new friends). To assist our newest readers in catching up, Momma and Bear share pertinent links to pages of special relevance to the background of Momma Kat and Her Bear Cat. The links aren't representative of the humor you'll normally find on the blog, but provide the perfect background to better understand Momma's and Bear's personalities.

See the previous collections of shorter "conversations," like the ones posted below
Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16Part 17, Part 18, and Part 19.

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 "eff - at sign - cee - kay" (grounded - part 1):
BC: Momma? How do you pronounce "eff - at sign - cee - kay?"
MK: What are you talking about?
BC: HERE! How do you pronounce "eff - at sign - cee - kay?"
MK: F-@-C-K. Why am I NOT surprised that this is something you got from your spam folder?
BC: How do you pronounce "eff - at sign - cee - kay?"
MK: You don't.
BC: What do you mean, "You don't?" Why is there a word for it, if you don't pronounce it? FAT-CK! I bet that's how you say it. What does "FAT-CK" mean? And why does this girl who e-mailed me want to ...
MK: You're grounded.
BC: What do you mean I'm grounded? FAT-CK means that I'm grounded? 
MK: No. You're not allowed to use that word.
BC: How can I be grounded for trying to expand my vocabulary?!?! FAT-CK!
MK: Bear . . . you . . .
BC: NO! Don't "BEAR" me! FAT-CK YOU!
MK: It appears you've accidentally come across one meaning of the word.
BC: It means, "I hate?"
MK: Doesn't almost everything you say to me mean, "I hate?"
BC: Well . . . hmmm . . . but . . . I HATE YOU!
MK: You'd think I would've learned with "booty call."
BC: BOOTY - FAT-CK - CALL! BOOT-AY! FAT-CK-AY! CALL-AY! And you can't ground me, because I'm ALREADY grounded!
MK: You're un-grounded . . . 
MK: You're grounded.
BC: Awwww, MoooooommmMMA! Just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse!
{Momma admittedly is amused that Bear doesn't realize the material effect of being re-grounded isn't any worse than being grounded in the first place. Small victories . . . }

*** For those of you who don't know, Bear is a bit naive and clueless about the slang we humans regularly use. He sees words or phrases "online" or in his spam mailbox and uses them without realizing their real meaning; he just thinks they sound cool and that using them makes him sound like a sophisticated cat of the world. For example, Bear thinks "booty call," means to fart. If you regularly read our conversations, I'm sure you can understand why Momma doesn't even attempt to explain what the words really mean.
*** The original booty call posts appear in, "Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 14, at the very bottom ("On Bear's 'potency'"). 

On a date with death (grounded - part 2):
BC: Yesterday, when you un-grounded me and then re-grounded me . . . that was the same as just staying grounded, right?
MK: Pretty much.
BC: You're a tricky Momma!
MK: And you were really mad at me last night.
BC: I don't know about "really" mad . . . I didn't break or destroy anything.
MK: That's true.
BC: Wait a . . . when I'm grounded, I partake of all the activities I amuse myself with when I'm not grounded.
MK: Yep.
BC: You just like saying, "BEAR! You're grounded!"
MK: You have to admit, it IS kind of funny. Especially when you consider the irony of a cat being grounded and following restrictions a human sets forth.
BC: I've been LIED TO . . . my ENTIRE life!
MK: Probably better than ACTUALLY being grounded.
BC: Well, OBVIOUSLY! But still! You LIED! I'll never be able to trust you again! All these tricks! Un-grounding me and re-grounding me and my being grounded not even REALLY being grounded . . . it's like you don't think I'm smart enough to know the difference!
BC: RATS! Don't respond to that!
MK: If I could figure out a way to ground you, I'd consider it. But what are my choices? You pretty much do what you want. Take your toys away? Not give you a wet food treat? Hide your cat tree?
MK: Quite honestly, any of those options would turn out so much worse for me than for you, that I'm not stupid enough to try them. If I took your toys or your cat tree away, you'd destroy this entire house in a few hours. And if I didn't give you a wet food treat, you'd follow me around, stare, and throw temper tantrums until I give in . . . just like you've done when I've tried to wean you off them before. Not to mention that you'd just attribute whatever I take away to me being mean instead of associating the consequence with the behavior that provoked the consequence.
BC: But you ARE mean!
MK: Uh huh.
BC: You brush my teeth EVERY DAY! You clip my claws and wash my face! You unplugged the toaster! You taped all the cords to the wall! You threw a blanket over my favorite ripping couch! AND taped over my favorite carpet-ripping spots! You've made it VERY difficult for me to express my furry fury!
MK: Funny. You always manage to find a way.
BC: I know! But I have to think!
MK: Don't hurt yourself.
BC: Why would I hu . . . I HATE YOU!
MK: It's okay Bear . . . not all of us can be intellectually superior.
BC: That's what I'm always trying to tell you!
BC: About YOU! Not ME! RATS! RATS! RATS! You're extra spunky today - I don't LIKE it AT ALL! You're . . . you're . . . SUPPOSED TO BE DOCILE AND DUMB! And disarmed and disconsolate and . . . and . . . A BUNCH OF OTHER THINGS!
MK: Sorry for disappointing you.
BC: Apology accept . . .
BC: In about, say, twenty minutes? After my nap?
MK: A date with death?
BC: Precisely!
MK: Shall I pencil that in?

On Momma's bazooka (grounded - part 3):
BC: Can I borrow your bazooka?
MK: Excuse me?
BC: I need to borrow your bazooka.
MK: Why would I have a bazooka?
BC: You humans are tricky.
MK: Do I seem like the kind of person who would own a bazooka?
BC: I don't know. What kind of person would own a bazooka?
MK: And what use could you possibly have for a bazooka?
BC: I'm testing a theory. I need a bazooka.
MK: A bazooka theory? A zero-bazooka theory? A bozo-bazooka theory? A bizarro-bazooka theory? Haha. No.
BC: Come on, Momma! Hand over your bazooka or I'll . . . I'll . . . THE TEDDY BEAR GETS IT!
MK: Go for it.
BC: What do you mean, "go for it?" This innocent teddy bear means so little to you that you're willing to sacrifice him in the name of your stubbornness? I bet you'd do the same thing to me!
MK: Generally speaking, most people don't threaten you or, for that matter, anything, just because I don't give them their way. And that teddy bear you're holding by the throat with your claws was from the Big Dodo, so shred away. If you hadn't noticed, that's the ONLY stuffed animal within your reach.
BC: BAZOOKA-RATS! I always talk too much!
MK: I'm sorry. Do you EVER face consequences for ANYTHING?
BC: Well, no. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT! The point is that if the worst you can do to me is ground me - and as you acknowledged yesterday - grounding isn't REALLY grounding - then it would follow that there are no real consequences for my behavior. I can do anything I want and I won't get in trouble . . . where trouble is defined as punishment.
MK: I'm sorry I don't understand . . . you ALREADY do whatever you want!
BC: Well, I mean more whateverer. Like shoot your camera with a bazooka. Theoretically, I won't end up any worse off than I am when I clear the shelves above the toilet into the toilet. And theoretically, destroying your camera with a bazooka wouldn't make me any worse off than if I did nothing wrong. I might as well maximize my fun.
MK: By shooting a bazooka?
BC: No. Actually, using the word 'bazooka' this many times in one conversation entertained me enough that I require a nap.
MK: I swear. If you cats didn't have low stamina, you'd rule the world. Or at least make our lives very difficult.
BC: I'm sorry I don't understand . . . I thought we ALREADY made humans' lives very difficult. AND rule the world.
MK: I mean more verier difficulter. And world rulier.
BC: Are you mocking me?
BC: No. Of course you aren't. That would require intelligence you don't possess.
MK: You can release the teddy bear now. I'm pretty sure you scared him into submission.
BC: Did you know that he's really soft? This might be my new favorite napping spot . . . but of course, I must nap first to test my hypothesis of his nap-ability.
MK: Enjoy your nap, Bear. If he's your favorite napping spot, he'll be far more useful than the Big Dodo ever was.
BC: OUCH! Remind me to never tick you off.
BC: BAZOOKA-RATS! I know! I know!

Who's the Big Dodo? {From our blog's Characters page} One-time husband of Momma Kat. Not as much of a sucker as Momma. Extremely disliked and barely tolerated by Kitty (who came up with the nickname "Big Dodo"). Another option for love and attention for Bear: though Bear never really liked the Big Dodo, he wasn't opposed to asking him for loves if Momma wasn't available.

On "Poo Skunk:"
BC: They're coming! They're coming! RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Every cat for himself!
MK: What? Who?
BC: The aliens! I hear them! Their evil footsteps echo throughout the halls of my extraordinary intelligence!
{Bear stops zooming around the house long enough to look at Momma with disdain . . . }
BC: They're not coming for you. They have standards.
{Bear zooms off.}
BC: Oh, cruel fate! The destiny of all superior beings realized! Oh woe! A fate worse than death! A fate EVEN WORSE than living with my Momma! WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYY?!?!
MK: Bear! You're literally bouncing off the walls! And everything else for that matter. Relax!
BC: The only reason you are enveloped by calm is that they do not come for you! I'm marked! MARKED by their gnarly hands! I already feel their dastardly touch on my sweet unmentionables!
BC: NOOOOOO! THEY WON'T TAKE ME ALIVE!!!!!!!! Let me go! Let me go, RIGHT NOW! I must escape!
MK: All this because a piece of poop is stuck to your butt?
BC: I've set the self-destruct function for five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . ahhhhhh.
MK: Wha? BEAR! Did you just fart in my face?
BC: My booty had to make a call . . . FOR HELP! HELLLLLLLLLP!
MK: I should have named you 'Poo Skunk,' instead of 'Pooh Bear.'
BC: They'll never take me alive!
MK: Relax. It's over.
BC: {walking around a little to test that the poop is gone} Oh. PHEW!
{The doorbell rings . . . }
MK: Bear! If aliens were coming for you, they wouldn't ring the doorbell!
BC: WHAT?! Oh.
BC: WAIT A MINUTE! How do you know the aliens' standard operating procedure? You ARE working for them! No place is safe! EVACUATE! EVACUATE! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!
{Pause . . . Momma scoops the litter box.}
BC: {walking past his litter box . . .} Sniff . . . SNIFF . . . The danger has passed! I survive to live another day . . . BARELY . . . just BARELY. There's ALWAYS a next time . . .

On grooming habits:
BC: MooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmMAA! Oh cruel hands of fate! Why have you forsaken me? WHY!?! MooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmMMMMAAAA!
MK: What's wrong, Bear?
BC: There's a HAIR in my food bowl!
MK: I eat food with your fur in it all the time.
BC: Don't be ridiculous! MY FUR is kept in pristine condition by my meticulous grooming! MY FUR is so clean, you could eat a meal off of it! YOUR HAIR is . . . well . . . less than savory.
MK: I get a shower every day!
BC: What does that have to do with anything? You don't see me standing in the rain and then being satisfied with my cleanliness!
MK: No, you're right . . . you stand in the pouring rain and dare me to come get you. And then, once you're back inside, your first stop is my lap so all the water beaded up on the surface of your fur gets wiped off on me.
BC: A little water never killed anybody!
MK: I'll remind you of that the next time you roll around in a dirt pile and require a bath.
BC: I refuse to eat this contaminated, polluted, tainted, abominable, and repugnant source of nourishment!
MK: Bear, I wash with soap every day. You lick yourself with fishy breath.
BC: Oh, so now my fishy breath isn't GOOD ENOUGH for you?!?
MK: There! The offending hair has been removed.
BC: I refuse to partake of . . . WAIT a minute . . . that's a BLACK hair.
MK: That would appear to be the case.
BC: PHEW! I thought I'd have to die of starvation over the lack of cleanliness in this house.
MK: What do you mean, "Phew!"
BC: The offending strand must be MY fur!
MK: That's funny . . . how could your "pristine fur" be mistaken for my "unsavory hair?"
BC: Only the most superior beings have black hair! This is why YOU don't have black hair . . . and why I do! You're not cool enough.
MK: My mom had black hair! How can you get a less than superior being from a superior being? Or a superior being from a less than superior being?
BC: Have you met my Momma?
MK: No . . . wait a . . . you mean . . .
MK: THAT'S NOT THE SAME! I'm genetically linked to my mom, you and I aren't genetically linked! That doesn't count!
BC: Phht. An inferior being trying to tell a superior being what does and does not count.
MK: Are you TRYING to drive me insane? Is this a GAME to you?
BC: I win. Although, to be honest, you never had a chance.
BC: Momma? There's another HAIR in my food bowl! Momma? MOMMA?!?! That's it! I'm going to starve due to cruel neglect from my Momma. Woe is me. Oh, woe! Woe! Woe!
BC: Wait . . . no, never mind. That's another black strand of fur. NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM.

On disgruntled discontent:
BC: Momma! Momma! This stupid box is in the way! I require access to the spot exactly one foot away from your face so I can turn my steadfast and devastating stare in your direction. {Pushing the box with his nose}. Oof!
MK: What?
BC: I can't give you my penetrating intense Bear stare from the other side of this box - it's too far away to be effective! THIS BOX DOES NOT BELONG HERE! {Pushing the box with his nose}. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . . oof!
BC: I can't . . . I can't . . . {Pushing the box with his nose.} . . . I'm just . . . SO, SO . . . MAD!!!
BC: RATS! MOVE you stupid, accursed BOX! You . . . you . . . impediment to my malevolent intentions! YOU'RE IN MY SPOT!
MK: You? Malevolent intentions? You don't say!
BC: NO! I DO say! That's the whole point!
MK: Maybe it would help to move the box straight ahead rather than to either side?
BC: Maybe it would help if YOU just moved the damn box so I could get in position and stare at you until you feed me! YOU put this obstacle in my way to deter my formidable and intimidating glare! This box is a sign of the sum of your evil-ality and incompetence! To thwart my relentless and ruthless glower of dissatisfaction! THIS BOX won't shield you from my furry fury!
BC: Errr . . . oof . . . {Pushing the box with his nose.}
BC: FINALLY! Take THAT, mother-(BLEEP)er!
BC: Wait! What are you doing? Why are you leaving?
MK: I'm picking up the mess on the floor that you made by pushing the box off the table.
BC: No, no, NO! You have to sit IN YOUR CHAIR! I MUST STARE AT YOU! I must make you feel my disgruntled discontent! AT LEAST until you feed me! Or whenever I feel like stopping.
MK: Disgruntled discontent? Sounds more like the thesaurus is the obstacle to your "malevolent intentions." Using fancy words doesn't make what you say any more valid or threatening.
BC: It makes it morer valid! And morer dramatic!
MK: And "morer" crazy!
BC: Thank . . . HEY! What do you mean by that?
BC: MoooooommmmmMMMA! Get in your chair! You're ruining EVERYTHING! How can my plot proceed without your participation? I demand your compliance! And cooperation! JUST DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO! This is unacceptable! Ignoble! Reprehensible! I DEMAND A REFUND!
BC: Hmmm . . . too much?
MK: But hilariously funny.
BC: Thank . . . HEY! What do you mean by that? My furry fury isn't meant to be funny at all!

  LEFT: The cat behind the box . . .                RIGHT: The infamous, "Bear Stare" . . . 

On debating the status of Bear's food bowl (one-third full or two-thirds empty?):
MK: You are NOT my favorite person right now.
BC: Well, OBVIOUSLY. Because I'm not a person. I'm a cat!
{Pause while Momma glares at Bear.}
BC: Why are you doing a load of laundry in the middle of the night?
MK: Because you barfed all over my bed sheets! WHILE I was sleeping under them!
BC: You ignored me!
MK: Bear, for the love of peanuts, I WAS SLEEPING!
BC: You'd already slept for THREE HOURS! Even I don't sleep for THREE HOURS at a time.
MK: Maybe I was exhausted?
BC: You're not a cat! How can you be that exhausted when you don't spend every single second of every single day having to be cute and adorable? The pressure! The expectations! AND YOU DON'T APPRECIATE ME!
MK: Did I mention the part where you barfed all over my bed sheets WHILE I was sleeping under them?
BC: I tried to wake you up! You weren't responding! You might have been dead! I had to know for sure! AND my food bowl is empty.
MK: Your food bowl is NOT empty.
BC: Close enough.
MK: And yet, you had enough food to eat to barf it all over my sheets. WHILE I was sleeping!
BC: I pawed at your face, stuck my wet nose in your ear, bit your ear, licked your ear AND your face, tried to stick my paw up your nose, tried to pull the sheets off you, sat on top of you, stared at you from an inch away for AT LEAST fifteen minutes, bunny hopped all over you, ninja-kicked you in the face, plopped my entire rear end on your face, AND went through this ENTIRE cycle TEN TIMES! You wouldn't wake up!
MK: Because I was EXHAUSTED!
BC: Hmph. How's that possible? You certainly hadn't "exhausted" yourself filling my food bowl.
MK: Bear . . .
BC: You just kept rolling over to the other side and covering your face with the sheets! You were IGNORING me!
MK: So you did one of the few things I couldn't ignore.
BC: Obviously.
MK: So you can see why I'm not happy.
BC: No, why? I didn't try to starve you! Or ignore you! MY FOOD BOWL WAS EMPTY! GEEEEEZ. What's a cat gotta do to get some food around here? I might as well have been out in the wild fending for myself amongst untamed and savage beasts, foraging and making do with any little nibbles of sustenance I could find! At least outside I could do whatever I want!
MK: Because your food bowl is STILL a third full . . . even AFTER you ate so much you barfed all over my sheets . . . WHILE I was sleeping.
BC: Yes, but it's two-thirds EMPTY! Starvation is imminent!
BC: Is this a bad time to tell you that you have regurgitated cat food in your hair? It's kind of disgusting and slightly off-putting.
BC: Okay. Well, just forget I said anything.You can barely tell it's there.
{Pause as Momma goes to look in the mirror and cleans out the regurgitated cat food.}
MK: Wha?
MK: Funny how you can fall asleep NOW, even though your food bowl is "empty."
MK: HOW DOES HE STILL MANAGE TO MAKE ME ACKNOWLEDGE HIS CUTENESS, EVEN AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!?!?! I JUST WANT TO SLEEP! I'm starting to think cats sleep so much just to manipulate us into forgiving them for what they do in the short time they're awake.

On Gary and Larry (and Bear's unique take on April Fool's Day):
BC: {running into the room where Momma is working} Momma! Momma! Code mousie! Code mousie!
MK: What's wrong, Bear?
BC: Mousie in distress! Mousie in distress! He'll never survive! I'll be mousie-less and alone and ALONE and MOUSIE-LESS! HELP!
MK: We'll fix it, Bear. Just try to relax so you can explain to me what happened.
BC: (BLEEP) that! Mousie's in the toilet!
MK: {GROAN} How did that happen?
BC: You wouldn't believe me.
MK: What happened, Bear?
BC: MOUSIE'S drowning and you're worried about WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?
MK: Tell me what happened.
BC: Well, Mousie and I were chasing Gary and Larry and they ran into the bathroom. The next thing you know, Gary and Larry knocked all your stuff from the shelves above the toilet into the toilet! Mousie went to rescue your stuff and fell in himself! Then Gary and Larry flushed the toilet! MOUSIE'S GONE! EXPIRED! LIQUIDATED! EXTINCT! VANISHED! NOOOOOOOO! ABDUCTED! Mousie was abducted by aliens!
MK: Gary and Larry?
BC: {GASP} In the ensuing pandemonium, I forgot about them! They're still AT LARGE! Fugitives!
MK: Who are Gary and Larry?
BC: The aliens who haunt the paper bag.
MK: WHAT? Aliens? And they haunt your paper bag but they can chase you all over the house? Wait a . . .
MK: Is this an April Fool's Joke?
BC: Would I joke about my Mousie's peril?
MK: I didn't hear the chase or the stuff falling in the toilet or the toilet flushing.
BC: I know! You're getting better and better at tuning out the stuff I do that you don't want to hear!
MK: Uh huh. I'm not falling for this. Either you're psychotic or you're joking.
BC: MOUSIE! MOUSIE! MOUSIE! Why hath my Momma forsaken you?!?!
{Fifteen minutes pass . . . Momma walks into the bathroom.}
MK: (BLEEP), BEAR! What happened in . . . (BLEEP) Where's my . . . (BLEEP)!
BC: I TOLD you!
MK: That wasn't an April Fool's Joke?
BC: Knock knock.
MK: What?
BC: Knock knock.
MK: Who's there?
BC: Gary and Larry.
MK: Gary and Larry who?
BC: Are you listening?!?! Gary and Larry the paper bag haunting aliens who knocked all your stuff in the toilet and flushed the toilet after Mousie fell in so they could abduct him!
MK: Remind me to teach you about commas. So you flushed the toilet after knocking a bunch of stuff into the toilet.
BC: No! Gary and Larry did!
MK: And they're real?
BC: DUH! How could they flush the toilet if they're not real?
BC: April Fool's!
MK: Wait. What? Where's the stuff that used to be on the shelf if it didn't fall in the toilet?
BC: Every one suspects that on April 1, they'll be fooled into buying some cockamamie nonsense. The best way to fool someone on that day is to tell the truth about cockamamie nonsense.
MK: I'm so confused. Did stuff get flushed down the toilet or not?
BC: Yes. Wait a . . . MOUSIE! He didn't fall in after all! WHAT A RELIEF! He's just hiding behind the toilet! False alarm! Phew! Glad all that's over! That was a close call! Never mind the rest.
MK: Never mind . . . My stuff . . . Over . . .? I need a nap . . .
BC: What a coincidence! So do I!
MK: And a stiff drink . . . or five . . . and maybe a plumber.

On what's missing in Momma's bedroom:
BC: There's a situation in your bedroom that requires your IMMEDIATE attention.
MK: {BLEEP} AGAIN!?!?! For the love of TUNA, STOP scarfing down your food!
BC: Again? Food? What? Ooooooooh. No, not that type of situation, another type.
MK: Are all the clothes in my closet pulled off the hangers again?
BC: No! Though that was fun . . . I might have to treat myself to that later.
MK: Then what kind of situation?
BC: Something's missing.
MK: In my bedroom?
BC: Yes.
MK: Beeeeeeeeeeeeaaar.
BC: I didn't steal ANYTHING! Your bed is empty!
MK: For the love of SALMON, Bear! If you want to snuggle with me and take a nap, why don't you just SAY that FIRST instead of all this rigmarole?
BC: I don't know WHAT you're talking about. I don't NEED you. Though, since YOU brought it up and YOU suggested it, I think a snuggle nap would work nicely. But only because YOU clearly want that. I could go either way.
MK: I'll keep working then.
BC: Oh, FINE! I might want snuggles with my Momma just a teeny tiny bit.
MK: I love you, Bug.
BC: Yeah, yeah, my ears called and they're lonely! And my belly . . . and my back . . . ooooohhhh . . . PURRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

On "almost:"
BC: {chowing down on his wet food treat} NOMNOMNOM. NOMNOMNOMNOM. NOMNOMNOM. NOMNOM. NOMNOMNOM.
{Bear's ears perk up.}
BC: Uh, oh! Hit the deck! Evacuate! RUN! MEEP-MEEP-MEEP! MEEP-MEEP-MEEP! Shake your tail like it's on FIRE! MOOOOOOOOOmMA IN--COMING!
MK: Gotcha! Time to brush your teeth.
BC: RATS! Just a few feet to freedom and the safety of my cat tree corner! So CLOSE!
MK: Yet so far. Open up.
BC: No.
MK: You know I'm not going to give up.
BC: But I can make it as hard as possible so you'll feel discouraged and give me days off.
MK: Bear, even with brushing your teeth daily, you STILL lose teeth! Imagine what would happen if I didn't brush them at all.
BC: I'd lose teeth. When I have to endure having my teeth brushed everyday, I'm DOUBLE SCREWED! I still lose teeth AND I have to put up with having my teeth brushed.
MK: I'm not going to admit that that ALMOST makes sense.
BC: Then UNHAND me woman!
MK: ***ALMOST***
MK: Yet so far. Open up.
BC: How come there are no close calls with my wet food?
MK: What do you mean?
BC: Like, oh crap, I ALMOST gave Bear an ENTIRE can of yumminess.
MK: Once again, ***ALMOST*** is the same as ***DENIED***. The material result is the same.
BC: Have I told you that I HATE YOU recently?
MK: Only about every five minutes.
BC: I HATE YOU! HA! There's no ***ALMOST*** about THAT!
BC: No! NO! PUT ME DOWN! Stop petting me! This is indecent and immoral . . . and . . . and WRONG! PURRRRRRRRRRRRR.
MK: You ***ALMOST*** hate me.
BC: RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS CUBED! Quadruple RATS! RATS to the RATS-TH power! Cosine of RATS! The derivative of RATS! LOG_RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS!
MK: Plug RATS into the quadRATic equation!
MK: Not funny?
BC: ***ALMOST*** funny.

On thinking quietly:
BC: {pawing at Momma's face} Momma? Momma!?! Wake up!
BC: {pawing Momma's eyes} MommmmmmmMMMMA!
BC: But I need loves!
MK: You were snuggled up to me and out cold five minutes ago!
BC: Noooo. Loves with your hands!
MK: You want to be petted?
MK: Like you seriously can't wait?
BC: SURELY that wasn't a question.
{Momma rolls over and closes her eyes.}
{Bear jumps over Momma to land right back in front of her face.}
BC: {pawing Momma's eyes} Momma? Open up! I KNOW you're awake!
MK: {sigh} It's not like you'll let me go back to sleep.
MK: {stops petting Bear and rolls over.}
{Bear hops over Momma and paws at her face.}
BC: You weren't done!
MK: Are you part bunny?
BC: You mean Sylvilagus floridanus? I don't think so. Do I look like Sylvilagus floridanus? My ears are kind of short . . . And my tail is WAY sexier than a cottontail!
MK: I was being facetious!
BC: Oh.
BC: Pet me.
MK: {sigh} {pets Bear 1.34 times.}
BC: {CHOMP!} That's enough!
MK: What the hell!
BC: No. NO! Don't touch me! {CHOMP!}
MK: Oh for the love of . . .
BC: {plopping down next to Momma} I'm trying to sleep! Stop wiggling! And talking! ZZZZZZZZZZZ.
{Momma moves so she's comfortable enough to go back to sleep.}
BC: You're REALLY annoying. I'm trying to sleep! That's what beds are for! If you don't want to sleep, you should get up!
{Momma gets up and mumbles unintelligibly.}
MK: {thinking to herself} I'm starting to think he does this on purpose JUST because he wants the exact spot where I'm laying . . .
BC: Can you think less loudly?!?!
MK: What? I made no noise!
BC: I can still hear you!
MK: {thinking} Now that's freaky. And slightly disturbing.
MK: {thinking} I love that cat, but sometimes . . .
BC: I love you sometimes too, Momma! NOW SHUT UP and THINK QUIETLY!

On the ogre in Momma's bed:

BC: Prepare to DIE!
MK: Wha?
MK: BEAR! What the HELL! It's . . . 3:32 AM?!?!?
BC: I'm killing the ogre in your bed! I wasn't ready for the counter-attack! Look how poofed up I am!
MK: That "ogre" is my face!
BC: {backing up slightly} Huh. So it is.
MK: Did I drop you as a kitten? Or something else that permanently damaged you?
BC: No . . . why?
MK: I was sound asleep and you viciously attacked my face!
BC: I thought there was an ogre in your bed!
MK: Do I LOOK like an ogre?
MK: Bear?
BC: What?
MK: Do I LOOK like an ogre?
BC: If I answer that, you're going to be mad!
MK: Never mind. I thought cats went more by smell than appearance. I don't SMELL like an ogre either!
MK: Oh, for crying out loud!
BC: You are KIND of an ogre . . .
MK: WHAT!?!?
BC: Well, you don't give me lots of treats . . . you only scoop my litter box every couple hours . . . you won't let me go outside . . . you only play with me an hour a day . . . and we don't cuddle nearly enough! PLUS! Look how grumpy you are right now!
MK: Maybe because I was attacked by a semi-psychotic cat in my sleep!
BC: Semi-psychotic? SEMI-psychotic?
MK: Completely psychotic! Completely psychotic!
BC: Hmph. That's better. I'm going to snuggle now.
MK: I'd like that.

On the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy - part 1:

BC: WAIT! Where are you going?
MK: I'm going to bed. Snuggles?
BC: WHAT!?! NO! You can't go to bed! How will I get outside to grab the baby chickens if they come while you're asleep?
MK: Bear, baby chickens aren't just going to appear out of thin air. There's no nest above the storage shed, which means Fred nested elsewhere or he's not on the baby track.
BC: But YOU SAID there'd be babies!
MK: No. I said maybe. And only because you felt jilted that Fred found a friend; I was trying to be optimistic. And anyway, even if the babies ARE tasty, whole chickens, you can't have them. It's not nice to steal other animals' babies.
BC: But we're not stealing the babies if we take Fred and his friend too!
MK: Bear, it's not nice to take grown animals out of their natural environments either. You've been watching out the window all day, why don't you come to bed and get some rest in case the baby chickens . . . CRAP HOLE! . . . now I'm doing it too! . . . in case the baby PIGEONS show up tomorrow?
BC: WOW! You mean the babies will be tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons too?
BC: Why are you banging your head against the wall?
MK: Because it's more productive than having a conversation with you. And since I'm getting a headache ANYWAY, why not?
BC: You humans are weird.
BC: WAIT! STOP THE BANGING! What if the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy passes over this house because of YOUR loud banging?
MK: Do you ever listen to yourself?
BC: ALL THE TIME! My meow is just as sexy as the rest of me . . . meaning it's TOO sexy!
MK: Oh, my head.
BC: I TOLD you not to bang your head against the wall!
MK: And yet, that's NOT the problem.
BC: {GASP} Remember all that noise outside today?
MK: You mean the lawn care people?
BC: I bet THEY scared away the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy! I TOLD you to go outside and make them stop! But NOOOOOOOOOOO! No one listens to the cat. I mean, why would you listen to a more intelligent species? That would just make TOO MUCH SENSE! You should listen to me!
MK: What?
MK: Snuggles?
BC: Didn't you just hear me say that I hate you?
MK: What?
{Pause as an intense staring match ensues.}
MK: I'm kidding, Bear.
BC: Hmph. NOT funny. NOT funny AT ALL!
BC: Are you coming to snuggle or not?!?!? Let's get this over with so I can go back to the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy watch!
MK: Well, if you feel that way . . .
BC: No, no. I'm sure your hands need my ears. And my back, right above my tail. I wouldn't want to deprive you of that pleasure.
MK: So selfless . . .
BC: I KNOW! I'm practicing for the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons farm! I'll have to have tight rein over my natural feline instincts when it comes to the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons babies . . . otherwise none of them will grow up! Delayed gratification . . . delayed gratification . . .
BC: Damn it, woman! Pet me already! I looooooovvvveee ear rubs! NOW! I need them NOW! PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
MK: Delayed gratification?
BC: Yeah, yeah. I'm working on it. Tomorrow.

To read more about tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons, see the blog post here: 
The Fred Files.

On the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy - part 2 (Easter):
MK: Bear, what are you . . .
BC: SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You'll give my location away!
MK: To who?
BC: I'm waiting for the large Sylvilagus floridanus that you humans celebrate this time of year.
MK: The WHAT?!?!
BC: More commonly known as the easter cottontail.
MK: The easter . . . you mean the Easter bunny? Why can't you just be a normal cat and use terms I understand?!?!
BC: A refined and discerning feline uses words like "Sylvilagus floridanus." Look it up.
MK: {looking it up on-line} You mean the EASTERN cottontail?
BC: Is that the Easter bunny?
MK: Ummmm . . . sure? Huh. That is confusing. Easter and EASTERN could probably both work.
BC: Is the eastern cottontail the large, over-sized animal that you humans worship, also known to hide eggs filled with candy and have long ears?
MK: I think so. You forgot the cottontail.
BC: No, I did not. It's redundant to say a cottontail has a cottontail. Only an idio . . . less than maximally intelligent being would need to elucidate that.
MK: And cats are maximally intelligent?
{LONG pause}
MK: Bear?
BC: SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You'll give my location away!
MK: I asked you a question.
BC: No. That was an asseveration.
MK: A what?
BC: Look it up.
MK: It doesn't count as "maximally intelligent" when you carry that thesaurus everywhere.
BC: No.
MK: No, what?
BC: The answer to your question was "no." It does not NOT count.
MK: That wasn't a question . . . At least you got the @$$ part of "asseveration" right.
BC: I'm always veracious and veridical.
MK: Right. That's why you're also keeping watch for the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy.
BC: SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You'll give my location away!
BC: Wait a . . . is Sylvilagus floridanus the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy in disguise?
MK: Too many words! Too many adjectives! Too many nouns! Too many disguises! My brain! My brain!
BC: Huh. My cerebration was that you didn't have one.
MK: Never mind.
BC: SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You'll give my location away to the tasty, whole, wild, flying chickens disguised as pigeons baby fairy disguised as Sylvilagus floridanus!

On skunks skunking non-skunks:
MK: Why does it smell like skunk in here?
BC: WHAT!?!?!
MK: It smells like skunk in here.
BC: Is that what that smell is? I thought it was new perfume.
MK: I don't have new perfume.
BC: Praise the kitty gods! I didn't want to say anything and hurt your feelings.
MK: I can't even tell where the smell is coming from.
BC: Probably from a skunk. I mean if it SMELLS LIKE skunk . . . it probably IS skunk.
MK: Your intellectual capabilities astound me every time.
BC: Well, OBVIOUSLY, they WOULD dumbfound you because human intelligence sets such a low bar. Even a dumb cat would appear a genius around you! Note the "dumb found."
MK: Right.
BC: {GASP} If there's a skunk in here, he might eat me!
MK: A skunk won't eat you.
BC: The skunk might mock me! Or impersonate me! A smelly skunk might cuddle up to you and you'd never know!
MK: I seriously think a skunk has better things to do than mock you or act like a cat. Especially if he's trapped inside.
BC: Like . . . {GASP} What if the skunk eats my food? Or the skunk uses my litter box? {GASP} Or I go to take a load off on my cat tree and the skunk's in my cat bed? Or even worse, the skunk's in YOUR bed in MY favorite spot?
MK: Bear, there is no skunk.
BC: How do you know there's no skunk? For sure?
MK: Where would the skunk come from? And how would he get in? And where could he possibly hide in this house that you don't know about?
BC: That's it! I'm not going into ANY of my secret hiding spots until you find the skunk.
MK: If I can't find your hiding spots or even get to your hiding spots to find YOU, how am I going to find the skunk in one of them? You could just check them all yourself and take comfort in finding no hidden skunks.
BC: Oh, woe. I won't be able to sleep or eat or play with my toys as long as we have a skunk! Or poop! I'm going to be full of $#!+!
MK: We DO NOT have a skunk! And you're already full of $#!+.
BC: Then why does it smell like skunk in here?
MK: Deja vu.
BC: Oh, yeah? Deja YOU, TOO!
MK: No, I meant you repeated exactly . . . oh, never mind.
MK: I'm getting the mail.
BC: The skunk might skunk me before you get back! Take me with you!
MK: Are you kidding? Every time I've carried you to the mail box, you've flipped out at some random noise and always ended up on my back.
BC: That was before we had a skunk! I'm going to be skunked by the skunk of all skunks! I feel death creeping up on me! Death by skunk! Oooooh . . .
BC: What was that?
MK: While you were involved in your dramatics, I got the mail. You didn't notice me leave and come back?
MK: You just like the word 'skunk?'
BC: Skunks skunk non-skunks!
MK: The similarities between you and a four year old are disturbing.
BC: No, YOU'RE a four year old!
MK: Oh, Bear.
BC: Your momma!
MK: You mean "You're Momma?" As in "You are Momma."
BC: NO. I DEFINITELY meant "your momma!"
MK: Maturity isn't your strong point.

On privacy:
MK: {using her shower time for deep thinking and intellectual pondering - without feline interference} La la la la dee da dee da.
{Momma reaches for the shampoo and glimpses around the shower curtain.}
MK: DANG IT! I could have sworn I closed the . . .

BC: Do you mind?
MK: Mind what?
BC: I want my privacy! You're snooping on me around the shower curtain. I like to sit on the bath mat without an audience. Can't a cat get a little privacy around here?!?!?
MK: I was here first . . . And I think you should SERIOUSLY reconsider who's invading who's privacy! PLUS, all the warm air is escaping.
MK: You haven't done this for awhile.
BC: I'm offended! I demand restitution! And retribution! And I'm just really, really, mad! I'm ALWAYS irresistibly handsome!
MK: No. I was talking about you sitting in the bathroom while I shower.
BC: As IF.
MK: Yes. For the first year we shared our home, you frequently sat in the bathroom while I showered. Sometimes we'd meow and sing to each other, and other times we'd play peek-a-boo around the shower curtain. Pretty adorable. Minus the cold air.
BC: Then close the door!
MK: As I learned then, as soon as I close the door, you'll want out. And then I'll close it again, and you'll want in. Whenever you find yourself closed in or out you throw a temper tantrum like you're dying. So it's best to leave the door how you left it.
BC: How do you know I wasn't dying?
MK: You're still alive.
BC: Cats have nine lives. I might be down seven or eight because you close the door.
MK: And I only have one life, so I must be careful and not get chilled from the door being open.
BC: So?
MK: So what?
BC: "Oooooh! My ONE life! So important!"
MK: My "one life" is the one that has thumbs and feeds you.
BC: Oh. That sucks.
MK: Can I close the door?
BC: But something important might happen on the other side that requires my immediate attention! I wouldn't want to be delayed by having to open the door . . . or miss it entirely because of all the racket from your shower.
MK: Never mind.
BC: I never do. Do you hear a mosquito buzzing?
MK: WHAT?!?! No!
BC: Oh. It's just you talking.
MK: You just HAD to say that because my face wasn't available for your tail to whack me in the face to tell me I'm no better than an annoying insect?
BC: More buzzing! SO LOUD!
BC: Do you MIND? What's a cat got to do to get some privacy around here!
MK: {sigh}.

On wandering random cats:
BC: WHAT!?!?!? There's FRESH LITTER in my litter box and you didn't tell me?!?!?
MK: I didn't realize you require special notice.
BC: What if a random cat came wandering through and thought this was a public facility because it doesn't smell like me? ANOTHER CAT COULD HAVE USED MY LITTER BOX!
MK: Bear, no random cats wander around here. And besides, if the sound of the pantry opening can rouse you from a dead sleep, the sound of pouring litter into the litter box should be just as effective. You hear everything. You just decide what's important.
BC: Maybe you didn't get this, but, ANOTHER CAT COULD HAVE USED MY LITTER BOX!
BC: {GASP} Are you questioning my cathood?
MK: No. I'm just wildly speculating like you are. There are a lot of "coulds" in the world.
BC: You COULD be sympathetic. You COULD give me cat treats. You COULD act like you care that ANOTHER CAT COULD HAVE USED MY LITTER BOX!
MK: I care.
BC: Really?
MK: About you. Not so much the random cats.
BC: BUT . . . hmmm.
BC: I HATE when you make it impossible for me to be mad!
MK: That impossibility has never stopped you from being mad before. Besides, it's okay to be mad.
BC: YOU RUIN EVERYTHING! When you give me permission to do something, I don't want to do it anymore!
MK: You may claw my arm. And feel free to bite me.
BC: Except either of those. Permission is irrelevant for expressing feline furry fury!

On frisky girls:
BC: Momma! Momma! I got an email from a frisky girl! I like frisky! And I LOVVVVVE girls!
MK: Let me see that . . .
MK: Bear, that's spam. With a subject line of, "Frisky girl." When you e-mail someone, you don't put a description of yourself in the subject line. The receiver sees the name of the sender separately.
BC: {gasp} You mean you're not the one sending me the e-mails with the subject line of "MEAN, fun-killing Momma?"
MK: Haha.
BC: I thought it was funny! I WANT a frisky girl . . . and one e-mailed me!
MK: How many times have I explained this to you? Remember the blonde cougar? And the Nigerian prince?
BC: I don't judge YOUR friends!
BC: Hmmm . . . then again, you don't HAVE any friends, so maybe that . . .
BC: WAIT! NO! You can't delete that! I want the frisky girl! Bonus if she's a frisky COUGAR girl! Who likes booty calls! My DREAM! Because my booty makes A LOT of calls!
{Pause - then Bear tails Momma into her bedroom.}
BC: Why are you pulling the covers over your head? This is NOT the way to deal with your problems!
BC: Bite someone! Or roll in something smelly! Or rip up some carpet! Stick your paw in the toaster?
MK: {groan}.
BC: I'm probably not helping. I'll go e-mail my frisky girl!
{Momma pops up faster than Bear runs.}
MK: No frisky girls. No cougars. No booty calls!
BC: But sometimes I have to fart!
MK: {sigh} Then fart. Just stop calling it a booty call.
BC: Isn't that what you humans mean by "booty call?"
BC: Momma? Momma?!?!? MOMMA!
BC: You can't just ignore someone because you don't like what they're saying! How rude!
BC: RATS! Cats who ignore their chatty humans are exceptions!

*** For those of you who don't know, Bear is a bit naive and clueless about the slang we humans regularly use. He sees words or phrases "online" or in his spam mailbox and uses them without realizing their real meaning; he just thinks they sound cool and that using them makes him sound like a sophisticated cat of the world. For example, Bear thinks a "cougar," is a wildcat, a "pussy," is a feline, and a "booty call," means to fart. Momma still isn't sure how, but Bear's finally figured out the slang meaning of "cougar." Gone is his assumption that a blonde cougar (wildcat) is excited to meet him tonight (to eat), and now, he just assumes you're a cool boy cat for hanging out with an older female cat. You can read about the loss of Bear's internet privileges (due to his reckless cluelessness) here: 
Bear Loses His Internet Privileges, Permanently. The original booty call posts appear in "Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 14at the very bottom ("On Bear's 'potency'").

On supreme and discerning acumen:
BC: Giggle, giggle, giggle, SNORT. Giggle, giggle.
MK: Not funny, Bear.
BC: You hissed at yourself! Now your face is all scrunched up funny.
MK: Not exactly. I was playing around with the free sample of dry spray deodorant and accidentally sprayed myself in the face.
BC: Even better! Giggle, giggle, SNORT. Most people would know to point the can AWAY from their face.
MK: Yes, well, I slid the button to the "on" position, and then when I tried to slide the button back to "off," it sprayed me. But yes, I should have pointed it away from my face as I tried to figure out how to slide the button back. I never said I was brilliant.
BC: Giggle, giggle, giggle, SNORT. Giggle, giggle.
MK: At least I don't PURPOSELY knock $#!+ over and then jump and poof up when they make noise hitting the floor.
BC: I don't know what you're talking about.
MK: What happened when you knocked the box of Kleenex off my desk on purpose? You didn't jump four feet in the air and then poof-ify when it hit the floor?
BC: The box looked at me funny. I don't take that kind of disrespect in my own household . . . I showed that box who's the head honcho around here! As you noticed, I jumped down and attacked the spurious charlatan.
MK: You go, Mr. Bad Ass Cat! Way to beat the smack out of a box of Kleenex.
BC: I think you GROSSLY underestimate the danger of Kleenex boxes to our safety and sanity.
MK: That's what I have you for, right? With you, I can live in blissful ignorance of the abundant risks of life, since you're always keeping watch over the evil-doers.
BC: Finally!
MK: Thank goodness you're so cognizant and vigilant about the risks of normal household items!
BC: You're welcome!
BC: Wait a MINUTE! Are you mocking me?
MK: Never.
BC: {SNIFF} That's right. It takes supreme and discerning acumen to lampoon the most intelligent beings on the planet. Supreme and discerning acumen you'll NEVER have.
MK: Obviously.