See, I talk to my cat. Tina is s squat little hoodlum of a cat who lacks a tail because she was dense enough to allow a car to run over it. Because of this defect, we’ve taken up calling her “Knob”, as her tail is now no more than a “butt-knob”. Last night, she was out in the cruel, dark night, and I was standing on the front step calling her. The conversations I have with my cat are never anything short of ridiculous, and I yelled and pleaded for Knob to just come home, offering all sorts of apologies and promises and allusions to the good ol’ days and whatnot. Little did I know, a neighbor just so happened to be walking their dog past our house at that particular point in time…
“Knob! Knob, please come home to me! I’m sorry I made fun of you for that time they shaved your gut and took your colon out! You are Spartan, never forget that! We can play volleyball, if you want to! Please come home! The coyotes are prowling! We’re watching a movie with a lot of senseless violence, I know how you love senseless violence! Maybe you can pick up some sweet new moves to use to annihilate voles, bloodthirsty savage you are! I’ll let you sit on the couch and eat some pie…”
“Hello?”
