So I walked into Chicken’s room while she was reading this morning in order to molest her cat– “I don’t like you, kitty. I don’t like you at all… Garlic and butter…that’s the only way you’re good…” (Don’t ask me why I started to say this, but it’s my little kitty ritual, usually said while I pet him and get in his face.)
“Mom, stop picking on my cat!”
“I’m not picking on your cat, I’m macking on your cat!”
“Well get away from him, you old cougar, he’s mine!!!” smack “Hey—why’d you do that!”
“If you’re going to call your mom a cougar you’d better make sure your big butt isn’t right there to smack!”
“Go away, I’m reading one of your dirty books and I just got to the good part.”
“Great—I’m gonna go cook and eat your cat!”
“He’ll kill you first, now get!”
“Here, kitty kitty… I’ve got some garlic for you, you big furry hat-to-be…”
In case anyone wonders what it’s like to have a fourteen year old? I think it only works when that’s your emotional age anyway.
You old cougar? Too cool! Now, what’s macking?
That conversation sounds like it could have come from our house 🙂 Sounds right to me!
I once told the husbeast he sucked. In public. Loudly. He replied, “No. YOU suck. I lick.”
It’s a miracle he still lives.
And I swear I’m naming my next cat Stir-Fry, so we’re on the same page there.
Was there something odd about that conversation? It sounds just the way our house used to (ah, blessed silence. They are both back at their respective residences, which are not *here*)
Used to have a friend who house shared with 3 college age boys. Her cat (previously called sphinx) rapidly gained the new name of Lunch. And is still called that as far as I know…
Grilltech looked up recipes for guinea pigs on Saturday night. Maybe you’re both on the same page.
That’s funny, my husband calls the cats “oven mitt” as in “come here you furry oven mitt to be.” I loved your description of black friday. I stayed away from the stores (I know, I’m a communist) but enjoyed my peaceful day. I’ll face the madness during the next couple of weeks.