ELE and the Ubercat

October 23, 2012

I was in my den last night, working on my acceptance speech for the 2012 Bloggies award, when the Ubercat strolled in.

“We need to talk,” she said without preamble.

She knew she wasn’t allowed in my room. That’s what happens when she tries to eat my bird. I reached for the squirt bottle.

“Hold it, human,” she said, and ran behind the chair.  

“GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” I yelled.

The Nordic Warrior Queen called from downstairs. “Everything okay up there?”

“Fine, dear,” I yelled, and grabbed the Ubercat by the neck. “Just the damned cat again.”

“Wait! I want to lodge a complaint.”

“What is it this time? Let me guess, you’re getting hairballs from the Friskies again.”

She ignored the jibe. “Your mate’s plaything. It has to go.”

I couldn’t believe this. “ELE? You don’t like her little dog?”

“It’s sitting in my basket again. Make it go away. I hate it.”

I tossed the cat into the hallway. “Yeah, you made that obvious when you took it down and bit it in the head yesterday.”

“So? Cats ARE predators, you know. Besides, I was pretending it was a gazelle.”

“For Christ’s sake, you’re an overgrown house cat. How do you even know what a gazelle is?”

“I watched Animal Planet last weekend, while you were in Tucson. They were running a series on the African savanna.”

“Fine. Whatever. What do you have against a three-pound puppy? You’re four times its size.”

The Ubercat looked up at me. “It’s just so…annoying. All the mutt cares about is toys. Stuffed giraffe this, and miniature tennis balls that. It never stops running around. And it’s breath—have you smelled it? The thing licks its own butt!”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

The Ubercat acted offended. “I DO NOT!” she protested. “I’m merely bathing myself. Cats are very clean animals.”

“Really? So why’s there a turd hanging from your ass?”

“WHAT? IS NOT!” She ran into the middle of the room and spun around five times before realizing I was putting her on. Stupid cat. “Oh, very funny. Laugh it up. You humans are so primitive.”

“I’m done with this conversation. The dog stays. If you don’t like it, I’m happy to find you some new friends out in the desert. Maybe you heard them howling the other night?”

“You can’t touch me,” she hissed. “We pay rent.”

“No, your owner pays rent. You’re nothing but a freeloader.”

“Keep an eye on your mate’s plaything, human,” called the Ubercat as it ran for the stairs. “I’m just a dumb animal, remember? There’s no telling what I’ll do.”

 

1 Comment for this entry

  • Mom says:

    What can I say. Can’t figure out where it all comes from, your imagination is wonderful. Your father is creative, maybe
    some of it comes from him. Keep it up. I love it. What is an ubercat?

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