"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.

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