Meow Meow Meow. That's all my cat ever says. What if he said more? I imagine the dialogue would go something like this:

Mr. Fantastic sitting on the kitchen table. Photo by BK

Me: Well, look who it is...dammit Mr.! How many times have I asked you to get your furry ass off the table?

MF: You mean my table? You've already asked me like a thousand times, do I look like I care?

Me: Keep that sass up and I'll make you care. I bought that expensive scratching post with the platform that's in the back room so you can sit up on that and stare out the window at birds and squirrels and shit. You put your fat ass there, not the kitchen table. Do I need to get the squirt bottle back out?

MF: Pff, whatever. The way I see it, you're just making my bath that much easier. Less spit for me. Squirt away.

Me: You run like hell once I start lighting you up with that water bottle, tough guy. Just like you scramble from the vacuum when I'm sweeping the carpet you big pussy.

MF: You're making that shit up man. I'm not scared of any squirt bottle. That vacuum is like ten times bigger than I am, is mechanically terrifying and growls. I never know where it's going.

Mr. Fantastic licking his privates. Photo by BK.

Me: It goes where I push it, Einstein. And you're the size of a cumulous cloud, so what exactly are you scared of? Oh, OH THAT'S REAL CUTE. Licking your private parts on the table now, Howard Stern? You are sick. You don't even have balls, you know that? It's just a tiny pouch of nothing.

MF: I don't need balls to be the man of this house pal. And excuse me for maintaining personal hygiene.

Me: If you ever want to eat Fancy Feast with cheese and gravy again, you'll get your fat ass off my kitchen table right now. I shouldn't buy it for you anyway after that stunt you pulled where you shit on the bed next to my head while I slept.

MF: Blame your wife for that! She locked me in the bedroom. I had to go and it hit me like ton of bricks. Couldn't clamp off the the valve bro.

Me: Yeah, whatever. You could've shit on the carpet, not next to my head. That was just spiteful.

MF: No, when I shit four inches in front of the litter box on the floor and I know you are watching me do it, that's spite!

Me: Ugh, remind me why I keep you around again?

MF: Because I'm awesome and I have the coolest name ever. I have an orange coat and white socks. And you promised to love and take care of me forever. I saw you sign that paper at the humane society obliging you to do so until I die. So you're stuck with me!

Me: I know, I can't take a hard line with you. Just get off the damn table, okay? I'll give you some Fancy Feast. Cheese and gravy!

Every animal has a unique personality. What would yours say?