Itâ€™s never good when the cats ask for a sit down.
They were waiting on the kitchen table so we could see eye to eye. Maggie, Maeve, and Mia. I got the ball rolling. â€œSo, whatâ€™s up?â€
Maggie, the oldest cat, a deadly serious calico, took a step forward. â€œWhatâ€™s up? Iâ€™ll tell you whatâ€™s up. Cat herding.â€
â€œOh, please. You didnâ€™t really think…â€
â€œLook, Iâ€™d appreciate it if you let us talk and just shut up for a change. I know you thought it was funny, but how do you think it makes us feel to get ripped on all the time?â€
â€œAll the time? I donâ€™t rip on you all the time.â€
â€œDonâ€™t take it so seriously. Itâ€™s satire.â€
Maeve looked more confused than usual. â€œWhatâ€™s satire?â€
â€œSatire,â€ Maggie explained, â€œ is what closes Saturday night.â€
â€œBesides, I write about the dogs.â€
â€œYes, and the dogs can do no wrong. The dogs this, the dogs that. The dogs are so freaking brilliant and wonderful. Well, how would you feel if the dogs turned on you? What then?â€
The dogs turning on me? Impossible.
â€œAnd one more thing, a**hole: donâ€™t write about this. It would be a shame if someone snuck up while you were sleeping and sucked your breath out.â€
â€œThatâ€™s just an old wives’ tale.â€
â€œMaybe yes, maybe no. Sleep well, my friend. Sleep well.â€