Mama is silly. Last week she had a tummy ache. And boy, could she whine and pout! “MaxE! Go to the store and buy me a 7 Up and some saltine crackers!” But then she wouldn’t give me any money or let me out of the apartment. How am I supposed to go to the store?
Makes no sense to MaxE. Mama is a big, silly baby when she doesn’t feel good. She expects MaxE to take care of her. I try to help. Really! I do. I run all over the apartment, jumping on tables and knocking things over, to entertain Mama and make her forget that she is sick.
But what thanks does MaxE get? None.
Instead Mama yells at me, then clutches her belly and moans.
The worst part was dinner was late because she couldn’t handle smelling my food! What’s does that mean? My food doesn’t stink! It is tasty and yummy in my belly!
Why does my belly have to ache with hunger because her belly is upset?
Rude. Very, very rude.
I try to plead my case with her, but she’s too busy being melodramatic. Moaning about her expired crackers. How she can’t risk nibbling on them since she is already sick. And oh, won’t I please go to the store and get her a 7 Up and some crackers?
I say yes and wait patiently by the door because I am secretly pleased for the chance to go outside and explore. I snuck out once and Mama had a fit, so she’s super vigilant and blocks any attempt to sneak outside. But then, Mama puts on her flip flops, grabs her bag and scoots me away from the door and leaves me.
Leaves. Me. BEHIND.
Me. MaxE. All alone in the apartment. The sweet kitty who was willing to brave the great outdoors for his sick Mama.
So I do the only thing MaxE can do. I tear around the apartment, yowling up a storm, knocking over everything I can, including Mama’s precious framed picture of the prima donna cat named Emeril. When I hear Mama come home, I jump into the cat tower and pretend to be asleep.
Mama stomps in sipping on her 7 Up, claiming she miraculously feels better already. I keep on sleeping. She’s awfully quiet, so I open one eye and see her staring at me.
Meow. What’s up, Mama?
MaxE! She starts shouting and flapping her arms dramatically. I ignore her because I am a feline and we are experts are ignoring people who are being silly. After awhile she gives up and serves me a proper meal. I gobble it up while she sits on sofa, sipping her precious 7 Up and nibbling on crackers.
I snuggle up next to her and tell her I forgive her.
She seems momentarily confused and stunned by my generosity. I chalk it up to her being sick.
She sighs and mumbles something under breath as she starts petting me.
I’m pretty sure she said, “MaxE is the best kitty, EVER!”