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My Parents Are Liars and Deceivers

My mommy thinks when I'm laying on her desk that I'm not paying attention to anything she's doing. Actually, I pay close attention, which is why I was able to hack into her blog account. Sheesh, I thought she'd never leave. She's, like, chained to the computer for hours and hours each and every day. I think she had to go get groceries because honestly, we were on the verge of starving. You should see the refrigerator. Can you say, E-M-P-T-Y? She better be getting me some of those yummy tuna-flavored snacks that I like so much. Probably be the last time I get any treats when she gets back and realizes that I launched a very public protest, airing our dirty laundry for all the world to see.  But really, I had no choice. You see, I recently discovered that my parents have been deceiving me for years, and they deserve to be called out on it.

It all began a few weeks ago when I heard my parents whispering in bed. They thought I was asleep because I was snoring. I was faking it because I know they won't talk about juicy or interesting stuff unless they think I'm asleep. Yes, I tricked them. Don't judge. Anyway, they were talking about a PCS move. I know what those are. I'm five years old and I've lived in four separate houses. This time was different, though. My mom said she was a bit worried about me because of the close friendship I've formed with Alex, a cat I hang out with quite a bit. I was a little confused because I was brought up to believe that everyone moves frequently and I couldn't figure out why my mom would be worried.

The next day when I met up with Alex, I asked him when he was PCSing. He had no idea what PCS meant. "You know, moving," I replied. I was shocked when Alex told me he had never moved and had no plans to move. Shocked, I tell you. He's seven and has lived in the same state, county, neighborhood and house his entire life. I've never heard of such nonsense!

So there we were. One cat who has moved four times in five years. Another cat who didn't even know what PCS meant.

We weren't sure which one of us was the weirdo and which one was the normal cat, so we made a decision which wasn't easy, but it had to be done. Sasha lives down the street. She's really hot, but she's kinda snobby and doesn't pay much attention to us and she never, ever wants to play. She's older and more experienced than we are. And though I'd never admit it to her face, she's very smart. And did I mention she's hot? Anyway, Alex and I decided we would go to Sasha and ask her about PCSing. When we strolled up to the front porch, Sasha was laying on a chair, her long white hair perfectly coiffed and her intense green eyes sparkling.

Sasha raised an eyebrow and said in her purrfect Ertha Kitt voice, "Boys, I'm not going to run around the neighborhood with you." A woman like that can be intimidating and Alex looked like he wanted to cut and run but I told Sasha that this wasn't a play date invitation, but that we had a serious and important question to ask her. She looked a little bored but signaled that I could continue. I explained the situation and she tilted her perfectly sculpted neck in the air and snickered. "Silly boys," she said, "Some people move and some people stay put."

As I was pondering her words, Alex (not the sharpest tool in the shed, but a lot of fun) blurted out, "So neither one of us are weird, then?" Sasha said she wouldn't go that far, but it is true that there are all sorts of families in the world. Families that put down permanent roots and families that move around all the time and families that only move occasionally. I was surprised to find out that Sasha had moved once before, too.

Like I mentioned, Sasha is smart. She stays up on current events. She said she's seen my daddy and claims he's even talked to her before. She mentioned his combat boots and then she started talking about the SEAL takedown of Osama something-or-the-other. I haven't seen any SEALs in the community lake. I thought they were only at places like Sea World. And I don't know what an Osama is either, but I didn't say anything. Sasha was rambling about how she's glad we have people who serve in the Armed Forces and she said my daddy looked like a "badass" in his uniform. Whatever that means. I thought bad was always, well, bad. Anytime my mommy says "bad," I'm in trouble. Like when I use the sofa as a scratching post. That's bad. And if I bite a visitor, that's bad. And if I don't come home by my curfew, that's bad. So I was confused when Sasha seemed to think bad was good, but I didn't want to appear dumb so I just went along with her and said that yes, my daddy is a badass. I mean, I HAVE heard my mommy use "bad" when speaking to him. Like the time daddy left the liquid nails on the bathroom counter and it leaked out and nearly ruined the counter. And that's just one example....

Anyway, I now had the answer that I was looking for. While it was good to find out that not all cats live the same kind of lives, I was a little peeved (not peed, that's bad, too) at my parents for making me believe all these years that all cats live the way I do. Knowing that I would be moving soon and I'd probably never see Sasha again, I decided to be bold. I told Sasha that I thought we would make beautiful babies.

She roared with laughter.

Alex and I sat there, stunned. We've never seen Sasha show so much emotion. "What's so funny?" I asked.

"Apparently your parents didn't tell you that you were neutered, either."

I have no idea what "neutered" means, but as soon as I publish this post I'm going to do some research.

You might see me again.

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