Continuing Conversations With a Cat (5)

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

It was time to clean the litter box again. Not my favorite chore, but with three cats it’s a very regular task. I have one of those dome-shaped litter boxes that’s supposed to cut down on the smell and mess. I removed the lid and set it to the side and bent down to begin scooping out the girls “gifts”. Yay.

Autumn loves when I do this. She likes to play inside the lid and pretend it’s her private cat fort. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her dash inside the entrance and poke her little fuzzy face out. I let her have her fun while I finished my cleaning.

When I was done, I walked towards the lid to put it back atop the base. I heard a voice from underneath cry out “Halt! What’s the password?”

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“None shall pass!” she said in her best Black Knight voice.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah well, I need the lid so…”

“Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” came the voice from within.

I shook my head and made a mental note to curtail her Monty Python watching.

“Autumn seriously, I need that lid,” I said as I stepped closer.

With that a small black paw launched out of the opening and batted harmlessly at my foot.

“The Black Knight ALWAYS triumphs!” a voice squeaked. “Have at you!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” I replied with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

The paw took another swipe at me.

“Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” she exclaimed.

I wasn’t getting any closer to getting the litter box lid back but at least she was changing up her movie quotes.

“Autumn, this is silly. You can’t stay in there. I need that lid back.”

“Go ahead, make my day,” came the reply, which might have sounded intimidating if the voice wasn’t so high-pitched.

Having played her game long enough, I reached down and grabbed the handle of the lid on top and lifted it off my overly dramatic cat. As I did so she looked up at me with a horrific gaze and yelled “They may take our lives… but they’ll never take… OUR FREEDOM!”

With that she dropped to the floor, eyes closed and her little pink tongue poking out of her mouth. I stared at her for a moment before replacing the lid and walking out of the room. As I did I commented over my shoulder “Dead cat, huh? Well I guess I’ll just have to toss her body in the trash. No need to feed her tonight.”

Just as I left the room I heard a voice from behind me.

“Tis but a scratch. It’s just a flesh wound.”

That sealed it for me. No more late night movies for her.

~V

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