What dog’s that then?

“Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen!”

What, Iggy?

“Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at–”

Okay, Iggy, relax. I’m looking.

“See?”

I see. 

“Yeah!”

Yeah.  What am I looking at, exactly?

“I’m under a Union flag blanket!”

Yes, you are.

“I’m cool!”

Okay, you’re cool, I guess.

“Just like The Who!”

Oh, dear. Iggy, The Who are not cool.

“Are too!”

Iggy, listen to me. They went on their first farewell tour when I hit puberty. They’re still farewell-touring and I’m approaching menopause.  I’m not exaggerating.

“Wow–”

Wow indeed, Iggy. They’ve been milking the–

“–you’re old.”

Oh. Great. Thanks. I’m gonna go. You have fun with your blanket.

“I will! I’m cool! I can see for miles and miles and — hmm, well, actually, no, I can’t see much of anything. Uh oh. Karen? Karen? Hello?”

 

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I got your grumpy cat right here, pal (and Iggy learns a valuable life lesson).

Hello, Boo.

Hello human.

What’s wrong?

Everything’s wonderful. What could be wrong?

Don’t get passive-aggressive, Boo. What’s the matter?

Can you explain to me how Grumpy Cat is making movies now?

Her again? You have to get over your fixation with —

She’s not even grumpy. She’s just deformed.

Okay —

Whereas I am genuinely disgusted.

True —

Thoroughly, honestly disgusted.

Okay —

You all make me sick.

All right, stop that, Boo.  That’s no way to go through life.

I know this, human. I’m making changes.

Good.

“Hi Karen!”

Hi Iggy.

“Hi Boo!”

Hello, schnauzer.

“Karen, what’s a kidney?”

What? Why?

“Boo looked sad. I wanted to cheer her up. She asked for one.”

From where exactly?

“Dunno.  She said she wants one of mine, but I was looking. I have my Kermit doll and my squeaky chicken, but I don’t see a kidney? Is that the new one you gave me?”

No, that’s a toy sheep, not a kidney.

“Oh. Then where do I –”

You don’t. 

“But then how–”

Iggy, listen to me, this is important.  

“Okay.”

Never promise any of the cats a kidney.

“Oh.  Okay.”

Good boy.

What’s so good about him?  I ask him for a kidney, I don’t get the kidney.  ‘Good boy’ my furry calico ass.  

Boo, you can’t disembowel Iggy.

How is that disemboweling?  It’s one kidney.  He has another one.  There’d be plenty left of him.

I don’t care how many internal organs he has, you can’t have any of them.  

You tell me I should be happy, then you stand in my way.

I meant by playing with toys or watching the birds outside or interacting more with the other cats.

I hate the other cats.  I want meat.

Well, that’s easy enough.  I can get you treats.

I want dog meat.

You’re not getting dog meat.

Schnauzer entrails.

No, Boo.  Not happening.   

I don’t know why I bother.  There’s no talking to you.    

You have the run of the house, Boo.  You just can’t open up the dog.

I’m disgusted.  I’m leaving. 

Fine.

You all make me sick.


AHEM.

“I’m BAAAAACK!”

Okay, Iggy, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?

“You wouldn’t let me say what I wanted.”

What was that?

“Heeeeere’s IGGY!” 

Yeah, a little bit creepy.  You’re not an axe murderer.

“No.”

Indeed.

“I’d need opposable thumbs.”

Try not to evolve any time soon, then, okay?

“No choice.”

No, I suppose not.

“I’m working on it, though.”

I’m hiding the knife rack.

“Awww!”