“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.”
“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.”
“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.