Whiskers ‘n’ Wine
My people came home one day and tore open a large envelope–one of their favorite activities. One day, they opened a package and looked right at me. “Meow,” I responded, urging them to feed me. You see, I am on a very tight eating schedule for absolutely no reason whatsoever–I am a cat and I can do what I want. They folded and I heartily consumed my Fancy Feast. You see, they call it Fancy Feast because I am fancy and it is a feast.
Still, the catmosphere (ha!) was slightly different that day. It felt like they wanted something…from me. I often reluctantly give in to their aggressive cuddles, but they kept talking to me. “Do you want some kitty wine?” They’d say. Or “Would you like some Pinot Meow?!” You see, I am a cat and I don’t know what words mean, so the questions they posited went straight over my li’l kitty head. But I quickly discovered what they meant.
The tall one with the big belly who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else set a bowl in the middle of the living room. “Odd,” I thought, “My Fancy Feast is typically served in the room with the hot metal box, cold metal box, and my pee- and poo-box.” You see, I am a cat and don’t know the names of common household appliances. The big-bellied man poured some red water into the bowl. I watched closely, then ran away pretending to be scared:
The short one with big eyes dipped her finger into it then held it out as if to lure me over. Spoiler alert, it WORKED. Y’all KNOW I had to find out what that stuff was! I had to maintain an air of nonchalance because, y’know, reputation, so I approached slowly and methodically. I sniffed her finger.
I looked at her, like “You tryna trick me? I’m a cat! I can’t be tricked!”
Still curious, though, I took a few whiffs of the liquid itself. You see, I am a cat, and we cats know that humans can act suspiciously cuddly when they drink red water, so we know to be very cautious about this kind of thing.
Ever vigilant, I decided to steer clear of the red water that they called Pinot Meow. Just too risky. But it didn’t end there. They placed the still-full bowl right next to my regular water bowl. I had to hatch a plan. You see, I am a cat and we are excellent schemers.
The approach: act like a complete fucking lunatic and run around the house, “accidentally” knocking over the Pinot Meow bowl and causing literally no other damage. Then, of course, I’d throw them a big-eyed “I’m sorry” face and they’d forgive me completely.
I launched my plan at the perfect time–they were dangling a fishy toy in front of me, and I playfully swatted it because I’m adorable. I escalated the playtime attitude by running in and out of the room at random intervals, jumping on stuff, and making dumb faces. Then, in a moment so perfect it felt like slow motion, I burst into the room with the large appliances I can’t name (you see, I am a cat) and flipped the bowl with my foot. The Pinot Meow was no more, and my big-bellied dad’s eight dollars down the drain. Mission accomplished.