FRAGMENTS OF CONVERATIONS WITH MY SIAMESE CAT, YUKI
(OR WHY, IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING, ALTHOUGH I CAN’T IMAGE WHY ON EARTH YOU WOULD BE, MY CAT THINKS HER FULL AND PROPER NAME IS GODDAMNIT-YUKI)
Regarding Cornish Game Hen
SC (Siamese Cat): (Lifting front forepaw to delicately “point” at Cornish Game Hen). Ooh . . . is that Cornish Game Hen? Can I have it?
AH: Don’t you even think about it. That’s my dinner.
SC: Well . . . let me just sniff it a little.
AH: Hey! Get your snout out of my dinner! Get down!
SC: Sheesh. Don’t have a hemorrhage. All I wanted to do was just sniff it a little.
AH: (Snapping fingers.) I said get down, please!
SC: Come on . . . I just want to sniff it. Don’t be so uptight.
AH: (Tossing SC off table). I said get down!
SC: (Jumping right back onto table). I can’t hear you.
AH: (Tossing SC off table). Get down.
SC: (Jumping right back onto table). I can’t heeeaar you.
AH: (Tossing SC off table; speaking through gritted teeth.) Get . . . the . . . fuck . . . down.
SC: (Jumping right back onto table). I caaan’t heeeaar yoooouuu.
AH: Arrghh!! Will you fucking get the motherfucking fuck down off the table!!!! (Realizing too late that neighbors can hear me yelling at my cat.)
SC: Brrreowww!! (Loosely translated from Siamese to mean that she never gets the Good Stuff, and I’m a Bad Mean Cat Mommy, and somebody should call the SPCA pronto.)
AH: Sigh . . . I just want to eat my dinner.
SC: (Staring up plaintively with big blue eyes.)
AH: I mean . . . is it too much to ask? I don’t pester you when you’re scarfing down your Science Diet, do I? And the fact that you happen to grunt slightly when you’re Hoovering down the Science Diet would indicate to me that you’re pretty much in the zone, and would not be appreciative of any unsolicited interruptions. All I’m asking for is some reciprocal courtesy here, you see what I’m saying?
SC: Brrrrrr-eek? (Lifting up front forepaw to point at lap.)
AH: What . . . you want to sit in my lap? Now?
AH: Sigh . . . oh, okay. Do you think you can behave like something other than Satan’s Spawn for a few minutes?
SC: (Hopping into lap and snuggling into cute ball.)
AH: Awww . . .
A Few Minutes Later
AH: Hey . . . wait a minute . . . HEY!! What are you doing?
AH: You are too! You’re licking my dinner!
SC: No . . . I’m just sitting in your lap and my head accidentally happened to fall in your plate.
AH: No . . . I saw you! You were licking my dinner! Goddamnit-Yuki!
Regarding White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake Bars
SC: Ooh . . . (pointing with front forepaw) . . . is that a White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake Bar? Can I have it?
AH: No, you can’t have it. It’s mine!
SC: Well . . . just let me sniff it a little.
AH: Hey . . . get your snout off my cheesecake bar.
SC: (Placing paw on my hand in which cheesecake bar is gripped and pulling hand toward her face). Gimme!
AH: (Pulling hand back.) No!
SC: (Pulling hand toward her face). Gimme!
AH: (Pulling hand back.) No!
SC: Well . . . let me just try and poke it a little.
AH: Okay . . . that’s it . . . you have to get down off the couch!
SC: (Taking outright swipe at cheesecake bar). Gimme!
AH: (Tossing SC off couch). Get down!
SC: (Springing right back up on couch). Mow wow! (Translated loosely from Siamese as “No fair!”)
AH: (Tossing SC off couch). Get . . . down . . . off . . . the . . . couch!!
SC: (Springing right back up on couch, making sure to stomp across iBook keyboard in the process so that the DVD I’m trying to watch is paused). Mow wow!
AH: (Tossing SC off couch.) For fuck’s sake! Get down!
SC: (Springing right back up on couch, making sure to leap onto couch via ricochet off T.V. tray so that full mug of tea is sloshed all over my paperwork). Mow wow!
AH: Goddamnit-Yuki!! (Yelling outright, and not caring if neighbors can hear.) I have one nerve left and you’re standing right on it, Missy!!
SC: Heh . . . Heh heh. Did you just hear what you said?
AH: Yes, I heard what I said. I said it, so how could I not have heard it?
SC: Heh heh.
AH: Shut up.
Regarding Brussels Sprouts
SC: Ooh . . . (pointing with front forepaw) . . . are those Brussels Sprouts? I want them!
AH: Now wait a minute here. Brussels Sprouts?? Really?!?! You’ve got to be kidding me.
SC: Yes! I want them! I want to lick the butter, and chew the greenery, and roll them about on the floor like peeled frog heads!
Yadda, yadda, yadda . . . eventually culminating in . . .
And at this point, Dear Reader, I’m sure you have the general tenor of any number of similarly-staged scenarios involving food and the Goddamnit-Yuki.