A while ago, I had this
conversation with one of our cats, Max. It was one of the rare moments of
my life when our pet would actually respond to my questions. This was how our
conversation go.
Me: Hey, what are you doing
there?
Max: Meow!
Me: You are lying on the
piano! My father’s gonna be mad when he sees you.
Max (with eyes as big as the
moon): Meow!
Me: Who cares? You’re cute!
Anyway, how’s life?
Max: Meow?
Me: I mean, how are you?
Max: Meow!
Me: Ohh I see. Okay then.
Max: Meow!
Me: Why are you so cute?
Max: Meow.
Me: You don’t have to say it
out loud. I understand it pretty well.
Max: Meow. Meow. Meeooow.
(jumps from the piano to the ground)
Me: Where are you going?
Max: Meow.
Me: Okay. (I rushed to the
door and opened it for him. He went out and I closed the door).
THE END.
There is a big chance that this is fiction, I can understand cats, or I
am just simply crazy. Well, for the story itself, it’s a little bit of the
three. While majority of that conversation is just a work of my crazy human
mind, part of me can understand cats – or simply put, our pet cats only. I know
when they need some cuddling, or some space, or they need to go out for some
fresh air and to release some things. I love cats, and yes, I am a cat person.
And third, I am just simply crazy. I surely had a conversation with our cat a
while ago but not that long. Who in the right mind would ask a cat why is he
lying on my father’s piano? No on, I suppose. I expected an answer and
fortunately he gave a short reply and that was it.
