"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: http://www.cathealth.com/safety/cpr-in-cats

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.


  1. Hi Momma Kat & Bear! Congratulations on being named a finalist for Best Humor in the BlogPaws Nose to Nose Awards! 🏆🎉😺
    We're very honored to be nominated in the same category as you! And thank you so much for coming by our blog to introduce yourselves. It's SO nice to meet you! We hope to meet you at the conference!

    Glogirly, Katie & Waffles

    1. Thank you for stopping by and the congratulations. We love new friends . . . especially of the funny feline variety <3 We can't wait to see what Katie and Waffles do next . . .

  2. Wait a minute... WAIT A MINUTE... Wait a cotton-pickin' moused up minute. CATS CAN MAIL ORDER TASTY WHOLE CHICKENS? I never knew! Nobody told me! Peep #1 has been keeping stuff from me again. Important, pressing stuff, like chicken. Thank goodness YOU let me know 'bout this. This is the beginning of a true friendship, for sure.

    And CONGRATULATIONS on your being a finalist in the BlogPaws Nose-to-Nose Awards!!! Very well deserved, indeed.


    1. Thanks for dropping in. I know! Humans are so tricky. They keep all the good stuff from us! Next thing you know, we'll find out that they bathe in sardines after they close the bathroom door. So selfish. Everything is about them! Did you know you can also order pens? I didn't find this out until a couple of years ago . . . http://mommakatandherbearcat.blogspot.com/2016/03/when-sexy-cat-lacks-sexy-things_12.html. Congratulations on your being a finalist in the BlogPaws Nose-to-Nose Awards . . . Momma and I haven't laughed so hard in such a long time as we did when we checked out your adventures. Cat on! ~Bear Cat


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