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MEOW 

[A young man named Jack is helping  his former girlfriend move out]

JACK:  Okay, I’ll wait while you finish.  (Under his breath) Does your mom ever get tired of your chronic  homecomings?

It is a shame though, I mean, all over a damn cat; they’re not people you know.  I can see the attraction of course.  Buying affection for the price of a bag of “kitty chow” or whatever you feed the damn thing.  Maybe you should have bought a bag of “boyfriend chow” and I could have had the same existential experience as the damn cat.

And no, I don’t feel like it was me or the cat.  It was the cat, period.  Why didn’t you call PETA on me?  At least with those girls you know where they’re coming from and they occasionally get naked. 

Well, I don’t understand.  I don’t know what there is to understand.  It doesn’t seem complicated, just a little screwed up.  You like the cat better than me; hell, you like the cat better than anyone.  Charlie warned me --  that is, he tried to – but of course I wouldn’t listen.  He said your last boyfriend, Ryan I think it was, was the kind of guy that all the girls went nuts over – movie star looks and sweet disposition – and he told me if you couldn’t make it with him there had to be something wrong.  I laughed, of course, as only a young man will.  She’s hot, Charlie, what more is there to know.

Something wrong --  that doesn’t scratch the surface (every pun intended).  But of all the things that could queer a relationship who would suspect a tiny cute little bundle of fur the size of a football.  Knowing what I know now I would have sat on it, or painted catnip on the lamp cord.  Oops…  Just kidding… 

No…  No, I’m not going to do that anymore!  I’m not kidding!  You’re leaving, so there’s no reason to pretend I ever liked your cat.  Frankly I would like to make it a kitty piñata or maybe see if I could get it to play with the garbage disposal.  Or maybe I could run it through the dishwasher – that would be cool. 

What? 

A side of me you’ve never seen before?  You drove me to it woman.  I meet the girl of my dreams  --  beautiful, sexy, smart  --  How could I know she would cough up the fur-ball from hell.  Have you any idea how weird it is in the day to day to watch someone constantly fawning over an animal.  Too bad it wasn’t a giraffe, at least then you couldn’t hide behind convention.  And you would have a lot harder time dressing it.  I mean who in hell has that kind of a wardrobe for their cat? 

Dogs?  Yea, same deal, but easier to know what you’ve got a hold of.  Except for maybe those little yipper things.  I got set up with this young lady once, not a looker mind you, but built like the design called for, if you know what I mean.  We get to her place and are just finishing a night-cap when Cujo ( a Rottie the size of a Water Buff) erupts from a closet you couldn’t cram a comatose chihuahua into.   “I think he likes you” was the last thing I heard as I ran for my life, slamming the door behind me.

Okay --  let’s get going.  Don’t want to keep your mom waiting.

(pause)

Why are you crying?  What do you mean you can’t find it?

Here kitty kitty!