catty

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. The cat is a rude, loud mouth and must be ignored. Always.

Me:        What’s this about?

Stella:    Rude. Loud. Mouth. You can’t tell me that you didn’t hear her. Meow. Meow. Meow. Typical.

Me:        It means something to her.

Stella:    She lays up there on top of the big chair, looking down on us from her high perch like she’s all that and a bag of bulldog treats, and she starts making these remarks and I know that she is picking on us and putting us down.

Me:        Maybe she’s saying, ‘Hello!’

Stella:    She sees us every day, Lady Human. Why would she say ‘hello’?

Me:        I doubt she’s insulting you.

Stella:    She’s a cat! Why do you think humans call spiteful comments ‘catty’?

Me:        You know about that?

Stella:    I know a lot of things, Lady Human. You would be surprised.

Me:        I already am, Stella.

Stella:    There is no other choice. I must work on a dog/cat dictionary for the benefit of human and dog kind.

Me:        How are you going to accomplish that?

Stella:    Very carefully. And from a safe distance.

 

 

 

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