Some of you have asked about Monster, the cat I met when we were held by the Animal Control people. Well, as it so happens, I saw him just the other day when I went to the vet’s for a check-up.
Here, as best as I can recall, was how our conversation went. Oh, by the way, Monster is now called “Fluffy.” It was his human’s idea. I still call him Monster, although that’s not his cat name.
Monster: “So, I read that book of yours.”
Me: “Wait … you can read?”
Monster: “Yeah, I had to learn to read Human when I was in the FLF’s intelligence section. Sometimes it comes in handy.”
Me: “Wow! I’m impressed.”
Monster: “No . . . I’m just pulling your tail. My human read it to me.”
Me: “Well, you had me there for a minute. Did you like the book?”
Monster: “Yeah, I thought it was pretty good. Especially the part where we were in stir together. Could have used a bit more description, though.”
Me: “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever write anything else.”
Monster: “I’ve got to ask though, why is that Saunders human’s name on the cover instead of yours?
Me: “It’s some kind of legal thing, the publisher said. I don’t really mind.”
Monster: “That’s just another example of anti-cat discrimination by humans. You should bite them.”
Me: “I don’t really do that. Biting, I mean.”
Monster: “Well, I don’t do it anymore . . . ever since I got my human. But I could make an exception.”
Me: “No, really. I’m OK with it. Puts me in the same league as Dalton Trumbo.”
Me: “Never mind.”
Monster: “It’s your call. But if you change your mind, let me know. I’m pretty sure Lilly won’t mind.”
He may be called Fluffy now. But deep down inside he’s still Monster.