“Make some tuna salad for your folks’ lunch today.” Tam said
as she got ready for work.
I wanted to yell, “NO! Anything but that!” but I refrained
from doing so. It was such a small thing, and well, with no electric can
opener, I thought I might actually have a chance to survive the task. I sighed.
“Ok.”
She had already set the can of tuna on the counter, so I
pulled the mayo, pickles, and onion from the fridge and started chopping.
Everything was smooth and easy. I went from one section of the kitchen to the
other, smoothly and easily. It was SO smooth and easy, I considered adding
singing and dancing to my kitchen activities. I’m usually hindered in my
kitchen waltzes and arias by the feline members of the family, but not this
time. I had all that floor space to myself.
I opened the drawer with all the kitchen gadgets and pulled
out the hand-operated can opener and glided my way to the sink where the can of
tuna awaited. “Click! Clunk! Hiss!” went the can opener and the tuna can.
“MEOW!” said Frey Fishwhore. “Gimme fish! You got fish!”
“Yeow!” I exclaimed, stepping away from reaching claws,
“back off, fur-face. I’m fixing lunch for my parents.”
“FISH! FISH! FISH!”
“No fish! This is people food.”
“Fish juice! Fish juice! Fish juice!”
“I have nothing to put it in because there is too much food
in your dish.”
“Ha! No such thing as too much food. Gimme fish juice.”
“That’s my foot.”
“It nice foot. I pat it.”
“Remove. Your. Claw.”
“Gimme juice?”
“Fine, I’ll put it in here until I’m done with the can, then
you can have your juice in that.”
“You gonna leave me chunks?”
“Not if you sink that claw into my leg again.”
“Ok. Look. No claws. I pat you nice leg.”
“I need to get this over there. You need to move out of my
way.”
“OOH! Fish juice in fish can! Juicy, juicy, fish juice!”
“Move! Out of the way! No! Not that way! Dammit! Oh, shit,
look out!”
“Whee! We’re doing the fish juice dance!”
“No! I don’t want to do that dance. Let me finish making lunch,
then you can have juice.”
“Dance!”
“No!”
“AAAAH! YOU STEPPED ON MY TOE! I HISS AT YOU! Now, I touch
you with my non-hurting claw.”
“Sorry, kit—HEY! Ow!”
Silent glares from Freya Fishwhore as I began mixing the
tuna salad. The moment I began to hint that I MIGHT be heading back to the sink,
she darted into what she knew would be my path.
“Oh! Cat! Just! No! Look out! Move your tail! And the rest
of your body!” My smooth and easy kitchen experience was taking on all the
grace and tranquility of a mosh pit.
“Fish, fish, fish, fish, MY TOE! I HISS!”
“Missed me, you idiot.”
“I not even try to hit you, beast, but next time I draw
blood!”
“You want fish juice?” I asked, waving the container of tuna
water over the sink drain.
“You better not!”
“Yeah? Or what?”
“You aske me ‘or what???’ I tell you what! I know where your
shoes are! Gimme fish juice or I leave you present you only find with toes!”
Yeah…still not a cat person.
