Lopsided Cat Restablishes Priorities
Posted on October 15, 2007 Posted by John Scalzi 13 Comments
“Hello, opposable thumb thing person. Where have you been all this last week? California? Reunion? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, opposable thumb thing person, you can shut up now. I can’t actually speak your monkey tongue language. Also I don’t care. See? This face? It’s me not caring. So cram it. Now. Shut. Up. You and your monkey tongue, I swear.
“Now is the time where you rub my belly. Because you are behind in the belly rubbing. Also in the neck and head scratching. Also back scritching. Scritching is different from scratching. You always forget. Which is why I claw you and make you bleed. You will learn. Even opposable thumb thing persons can learn. Sometimes.
“I cannot believe I am still here waiting for you to indulge me. Clearly this place you say you have been — California? — is a place where you become stupid so you do not understand any longer the purpose in your opposable thumb thing person life is to serve me and also the other cat sometimes but mostly me. I will deal with this California later. After my nap.
“But for now rub my belly. And be quick about it, opposable thumb thing person. I am behind in my rodent disembowling quota today and I cannot let that orange cat get ahead. I have things to do! So get to it, and I may not smother you in fur while you sleep. Today. Maybe.”
Oh. My. God. The only reason I’m not literally rolling on the floor laughing my ass off is because my work chair has arms that preclude my falling out of it.
Dude, my cats do this to me ALL the time when I return home. Even if I only went to the grocery store.
Then again, Lopsided Cat is obviously a most rubbable and scritchable fur person…
Do I smell a short story here? Lopsided cat takes on this “California”?
Could be fun. But mostly I bet that it would involve belly rubbing.
It seems that whenever I rub our cat’s belly, there comes a point that I’m “done.” That point is known only to the cat, and it must inform me of the doneness with teeth and claws. I long for an early warning system.
HA! Before I started reading that I shrieked because it looked like some kind of weird space-panda-miniature-orangutan thing died on your desktop.
Get scratching before the thing gets feisty. You wouldn’t want this to happen to you!
I am hearing all the cat dialogue in a “Stewie of Family Guy” voice.
AAAHHH! JEE-sus, don’t DO that.
I innocently click in to see what’s goin’ on and first thing up is a week-old dead possum the dog left on your desk. Then I read the headline and then I clean my glasses, and then decide that you need to maybe discover at least the Auto Contrast command in Photoshop to bring out those furry details a little better.
Oh, yeah: give dat belly a rub for me, too.
Oh dear. Writing from the POV of a pet is invariably a sign of an impending mental collapse.
Writing the family Christmas letter from the POV of a pet is a harbinger of an impending psychotic episode, the sort that winds up in textbooks of deviant psychology as a “prime example”.
It’s like how “Tailchaser’s Song” should have been written.
Man, that tummy reminds me of the shag carpeting my friend had in his van back in 1978.
Shag-a-licious!
Lopsided Cat has needs, you know. You owe the cat all the belly rubs it takes to recover from the trauma.
I’ll bet Kodi wasn’t traumatized, though.
Member,
The Wonderful Kodi Fan Club
What orange cat has dared to challenge the supremacy of Lopsided Cat in the rodent sweepstakes? Pah! I laugh in the face of the orange cat!
For now, you made the kitty sad and so, you must pay.
Well, you know, JonathanMoeller, he’s done male POV, female POV, just finishing up a YA POV, all in the OMW universe. It was only bound to be time to hear The Obin’s Story. Obbisouly John is doing character sketches using his pets.
We have a neighbor that likes to say, “Dogs have owners. Cats have staff.”