Have you ever wondered what cats are saying?
I know that I have.
So, over the holidays, in between watching a buttload of episodes of “The Wire” on DVD, I learned to speak Cat.
It was either that or Italian, and since I’m off Italian women…
I can see that you are skeptical. (About the Cat thing, not the Italian chick embargo.) Permit me to demonstrate.
Scamp: You don’t HAVE to fuck off, but it would be really super if you did.
Whiskers: That’s not you talking, man. It’s the ‘nip.
Scamp: Please… I’m barely using any of the stuff. It’s purely recreational.
Whiskers: And I suppose that you can quit at any time?
Scamp: Absolutely.
Whiskers: You are lying to yourself. Tell him, Sir William James Purrington III.
Sir William James Purrington III: Well… see… the thing with catnip is… and studies have shown…
Whiskers: Yeah, thanks. You’ve been helpful.
Scamp: I appreciate the concern, but–
Whiskers: It’s that Princess next door, isn’t it?
Scamp: Princess has nothing to do with anything. I’m just bummed that they cancelled “The O.C.”
Whiskers: We all are, but it’s more than that. You fell for her, didn’t you?
Scamp: No. Not at all.
Whiskers: Come on. She did that neck nuzzle, deep purring thing. It got to you.
Scamp: So what if it did?
Whiskers: But, you let her know that she was getting to you. You gave her the upper paw!
Scamp: That’s crazy.
Whiskers: Is it? What do you think, Sir William James Purrington III?
Sir William James Purrington III: Well, relationships… They are a tricky thing… When emotions… Feelings are–
Whiskers: Exactly!
Scamp: Listen, I’m fine. I just want to read today’s Garfield strip and be left alone.
Whiskers: Can’t do it, homey. We are going to get you off the ‘nip. And there is a cat show tonight down at the civic center. We’ll go chase some tail. You’ll see.
(They are interrupted by some humans speaking nearby.)
Scamp: I wonder what that is about.
Whiskers: Sir William James Purrington III, you can speak human. What are they saying?
Sir William James Purrington III: Well… Okay… I’m a bit rusty, you know… Someone named Britney is in rehab… Uh oh…
Whiskers: What is it?
Sir William James Purrington III: It’s just that… Not sure how to… Princess has fleas.
Scamp: I can’t believe this.
Whiskers: (scratching himself) Me neither.
Scamp: Don’t tell me…
Whiskers: You know that I have a weakness for calicos.
Scamp: Bastard.
Whiskers: Sorry, dude.
Scamp: Forget it. I need a flea bath.
Whiskers: Me too.
Sir William James Purrington III: Me too.
Scamp and Whiskers stop in their tracks.
Whiskers: You?!?
Sir William James Purrington III: Well, she was… playing with a roll of toilet paper… It was double-quilted… Double-quilted, motherfuckers!!!
The three kittens walk quietly down the hall together.
Whiskers: So, that Pat Robertson is a huge sack of crap, eh?
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Princess? More like Doorknob — ’cause everyone’s had a turn!
Perhaps that was out of line.
But she had it coming…
I think this whole post boils down to one thing only: they cancelled The O.C.
The upper paw. Ha!
Also, I too would like to learn how to speak cat. My favorite cat, Lil’ Beast, so named because he likes to bite and scratch, gets testy near the door (he’s an outdoor cat.) I ask: why is he so mean when I let him out? Huh? Why?
james: I don’t want you to misunderstand. Princess is not a tramp. She is just misunderstood. She has “daddy issues.”
moody: You are SO right. Where am I going to get my Taylor Townsend fix? *sniff*
eve: I suspect that l’il Beast didn’t think that you opened the door quickly enough. I think that cats swear at us a lot. That and they enjoy dirty haikus. Not sure why.
Double Quilted…
That skank was asking for it…
Isn’t that Rachel Bilson chick on the O.C.? Man she’s cute… Sorry, random thought…
Haaaaa that was too cute.
stormin’: You never have to apologize for a Bilson mention.
Steph: Thanks! I hope that you are on the mend.
Actually, my cats assure me that they are too highly evolved to need actual speech. They communicate telepathically with a series of human-denigrating looks and tail twitches. Mere people couldn’t possibly begin to decipher their communication – we are simply too stupid.
Yea, Purringtons!