Hi ya, everyone! It’s me, Mighty Max! Today, I’m going to meow about my favorite subject: Mama! I love my Mama, even if she is very goofy. She gets so confused and calls me a “bed hog” or a “snuggle bunny”, even though she knows I’m a feline. Maybe she needs new glasses or something? I don’t know, but I like to keep Mama on her toes.
As you know, MaxE is a playful kitty. I just can’t help myself; I was born to get into mischief! Now Mama always makes a big deal … aka Mama Drama … about my mischievous ways. Personally, I think she likes it. She denies it, of course. But I speak the truth. Paw swear!
Anyway, the other day, Mama accused me of being a real big troublemaker. Even worse, I am actually blameless too! It is Mama’s fault, not mine. She left the top drawer on the tall dresser open an inch or two. Well, what was I supposed to do? Ignore all the delightful things inside?
No way, man! That’s not how the Max Man rolls!
I did what any self-respecting feline would do and scooped out everything my big paws could dig out. It’s not my fault it was her underwear drawer. Or that she woke up to discover her unmentionables scattered all over the floor with one pair of panties dangling from a drawer knob. Don’t blame, MaxE. He is innocent of all charges!
Well, maybe not innocent, but blameless.
And irritated. I made beautiful, modern cat art, which is probably worth a fortune, like two pennies, but Mama didn’t notice; she only saw naughtiness. Again. Like she always does.
It went from bad to worse when Mama noticed some scratches on the dresser too. See, Mama is kinda short (not kind of, but absolutely, positively short but I’m trying to be polite so I don’t make her crankier). Since she is the same height as the tall drawer, she can’t see the top unless she stands on her little stepladder.
She rarely (never) does that but due to the fire scare, she turned into a cleaning fool to get rid of the smoke smell. That’s when she saw the scratches.
I felt a little hurt that she automatically accused me of putting the scratches on her dresser. Maybe prima donna Emeril did it and she never noticed because she was willfully blind to all of his naughtiness.
She claims it couldn’t have been Mr Perfect Cat because he never jumped on the dresser and was such a good boy.
Good boy = boring boy. True dat.
Maybe I put a scratch or two (or eight) scratches on the dresser, but what was I supposed to do? It takes a lot of momentum and power to jump onto the dresser and I had to put the brakes on somehow or I would slide right off. That would have been so humiliating!
I pled my case to Mama but she wasn’t impressed. She said that I had to make reparations, which didn’t worry me because I didn’t know what reparations were. Apparently, it meant snuggling because Mama insisted that I snuggle with her as payment.
For days, all I heard was “MaxE, come snuggle with me!” or “Might Max, let’s snuggle!” It was exhausting. Thankfully, I paid my dues and now we are even steven. She’s decided to never, ever stand on her stepladder again so she forgets about the scratches. I meowed that I would be on my best behavior from here on out.
Of course, Mama forgets my best behavior is getting into mischief. Meow!