Thursday, September 14, 2006

An Interview With Cat


Every now and then, my blog affords me the opportunity to speak with famous celebrities. Recently, Pickles has made waves in the blogosphere by being the first cat to operate his own blog. Without any further ado, Pickles, welcome to TPWK.

Pickles: I am undone with joy.

TPWK: Now, of course, I think we were all taken aback when you began the now-famous smartycat blog, a bold foray into the myasma of feline discontentment and rage.

Pickles: I hate being a cat. I'd rather be a dancer. I cannot dance.

TPWK: Yes, the dancing. Difficult.

Pickles: Two left feet.

TPWK: Figuratively and literally, yes.

Pickles: Would you watch?

TPWK: Watch?

Pickles: Were I to dance, would you enjoy watching that?

TPWK: I guess I can't say.

Pickles: I would practice first. I am very meticulous, you understand. One, two, three... One, two, three... One, two, three..

TPWK: Clearly, you are envisioning a waltz.

Pickles: I would be beautiful. For the first time in my life. Beautiful.

TPWK: Right. Of course, your blog, with its no-hold-barred depiction of your life, has garnered praise from certain circles, but certainly its fair share of criticism.

Pickles: The dog hates it.

TPWK: The dog...

Pickles: The dog is a son of a bitch.

TPWK: Again, literally and figuratively. Yes...

Pickles: One time, our owners left for Valleyfair. The dog was inconsolable. So irate he was that he defecated both on our owner's pillows and in their toddler's crib.

TPWK: The dog, flummoxed, no doubt.

Pickles: Do you know what I was doing? Do you know what I did with the peace and quiet? I wrote limmericks. I wrote limmericks because that is what sophisticated animals do.

TPWK: Indeed.

Pickles: And who gets the attention? The dog. For defecating. I craft a brilliant, ironic commentary, via limmerick, on our failing foreign policy, and the dog takes a dump and suddenly it's world war 3.

TPWK: Misplaced priorities, it seems, on the part of the owners.

Pickles: I mean, how the hell did he even get into the crib to do that, much less find the wherewithal? It's a baby's crib for crying out loud. And then the dog has the audacity to say my writing is "myopic". That was his word. "Myopic".

TPWK: Let's shift gears. You have long been active on the issue of cat exploitation. In the 1990's you were very visible in protesting the image... The so-called "fefe" image that you felt was, at best, condescending...

Pickles: There is this perception that cats, are, how to say it, austere. Noble, but incapable. I took offense. I am a living animal, not a set-piece in some burgeois fantasy-play.

TPWK: Many have said that you were responsible for instigating the violence that claimed the life of Meow Mix CEO...

Pickles: I have no comment on that.

TPWK: But it has been said.

Pickles: I have no comment on that. I have said my piece. The courts have decided. I have no comment.

TPWK: Surely, you are able to...

Pickles: I will urinate on your socks! Do you want that? You will smell my piss!

TPWK: Right. Cordially.

Pickles: ....

TPWK: You mentioned dancing.

Pickles: Are we done here?

(leaves)

TPWK: Are you scratching my ottoman? Don't pretend like you can do that. Don't pretend that's cool.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Roger said...

Yes, I laughed. Much.

6:29 AM  
Anonymous Laura said...

Pickles:

You look just like my sister's cat Gizmo. Any relation?

3:09 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home