conversations, part V

18 Feb

Having a dog in the house has been quite the adjustment. There are morning walks and evening walks, and much more concern about pooping than we’ve previously experienced in our lives. But Swede and I adjusted pretty quickly to this new lifestyle, because we are adults and have opposable thumbs. Apparently if you lack the latter, it hasn’t been such an easy ride, as the cats have been quite vociferous and insistent on letting us know their unhappiness. To which I simply shrug and tell them if they became more productive and contributory members of the household instead of the lumpy sponges that they are, maybe they would be able to have a say in who gets to live here.

Me: Listen, I know you guys aren’t happy that the dog is here. But I think it’s best if you would just accept the fact that she’s not going anywhere. Especially you, Fat Cat.

Him: Mrw.

Me: Yes, you. Your sister has partially accepted it. She only hisses at the dog 97 percent of the time now. And we all know that while she may be the smallest animal in the house, she’s also the most badass. Yes, she’s scared of shoes and air, but can you honestly tell me you don’t think she was a dictator in a past life and would just as soon shank a bitch as look at her?

Him: Mrow.

Me: Yes, I know I’m right, too.

Him: Blinkblink

Me: And another thing. I think having a dog in the house is going to be a good thing for you. You can learn a lot from her.

Him: Rwwwrrr.

Me: No, I disagree. Take, for example, this morning. Why don’t you take a page from the dog’s playbook? See how she has learned, in her seven months on this planet, versus your seven years, that if it is morning, she will get fed. She does not freak out about it. She does not plant herself on the far side of the condo and yell at the top of her lungs for food. She does not run full speed into the bedroom, yell in my face for food, and then run back out.

Him: Rwrrr.

Me: It’s rude.

Him: Mrw-rw.

Me: Yes, it is.

Him: Blinkblinkblink

Me: This is not the first time I’ve talked with you about becoming a person of excellence. Or cat of excellence, I guess. This is not even the third time we’ve talked about it. But it doesn’t matter what I talk to you about—becoming a cat of excellence, not taking swipes at the dog, not intruding on my bathroom time—it’s in one ear and out the other.

Him: Blinkblinkblink

Me: It’s the one thing you’ve got going for you—at least you’re consistent.

Him: Mrow.

The only one who will listen to him rant is the one he doesn't like.

The only one who will listen to him rant is the one he doesn’t like.


2 Responses to “conversations, part V”


  1. things i’ve been meaning to tell you: march 2015 | - March 11, 2015

    […] pack about twenty-five people into our little bootbox of a condo, and a good time was had by all. Even the cats enjoyed themselves. But the highlight of the night was when a bottle of tonic exploded on the […]

  2. photo friday: animals, at peace. maybe. | - July 31, 2015

    […] Gigi, unlike the jerks who live with us permanently, doesn’t seem to be too bothered by the dog. Or at the very least she doesn’t shoot eye-daggers […]

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