Even More Conversations With a Cat

Never argue with a cat. You can't win.
Never argue with a cat. You can’t win.

I needed to go to the grocery store, so I grabbed my socks and shoes and sat down on my sofa. Autumn walked in.

“Yay! It’s playtime!” she yelled and bounded over to me.

“What?” I asked.

She grabbed my left foot and started gently gnawing on it. “You’re covering your feet. That means it’s playtime,” she said happily.

“Ow!” I yanked my foot away from her. “No, it’s not playtime. I’m going out for a bit.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “We always play when you cover your feet.”

“No, you always come and attack my feet whenever I try to put my shoes on,” I said, feeling irritated. “There’s a difference.”

“Die!” she yelled as she pounced on my shoe.

“Autumn, stop that,” I said as I tried to wrestle my shoe away from her. She had her front paws wrapped around my shoe as she furiously kicked it with her back legs. She bit the shoelace.

“Mmmrrrrr…” she exclaimed with a mouthful of shoelace. “Don’t worry, I’ll kill it for you!”

“It doesn’t need to be killed!” I yelled, finally wrenching it from her death grip. She laid on the floor looking at me perplexed.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“Nothing is wrong with me,” I responded, slipping my foot into my shoe.

“Says the guy who uses his water dish as a litter box,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Wha… Water dish? You mean the toilet? That’s not a water dish,” I said.

“Not anymore it’s not. That’s just gross,” she said looking at me with disgust.

“Look, just behave. I’ll be back later,” I said as I finished tying my shoes.

“You’re never coming back,” she said plainly.

“Of course I am. I always come back.”

“That’s what you always say,” she whined.

“And I always come back.”

“You won’t come back and I’ll starve. I just know it!” she cried.

I reached for my keys and realized I’d left them in my office. I walked in and grabbed them from my desk. As I returned to the living room, Autumn was nowhere to be seen. Just then, I heard a muffled voice from my bedroom.

“Die!” it yelled.

At least I could rest easy now, knowing my other shoes would all be thoroughly dead by time I returned from the store. “Goldfish would never do this,” I realized as I walked out the door.


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