Dave is a Sucker!

By Sputnik the Cat
Seattle, Washington 

[Editor’s Note: Dave Fox is an extremely busy and important person who did not have time to write a web column this week because he is getting ready to leave the country. In his place, we are featuring this guest column by Sputnik the Cat.]

Dear People,


I would like to begin by noting that I am a female cat, and I take offense to Dave’s references to me two weeks ago as a “he.” One would think that by age 32, Dave would have learned how to tell the difference between a male and a female. Don’t you people learn about these things in school? Do I need to explain it?


But Dave is a bit slow, and that’s okay. I am taking full advantage of his slowness.

It’s been easy. All I had to do was wander in through his open patio door three weeks ago, flop down on the floor, and look cute. Yeah, he chased me out, waving his barbecue tongs like Julia Child on angel dust. But talk about all bark and no bite, he’s worse than a dog!

What happened when I got outside? I flopped down again and looked cute some more. Mr. “Get out of my oh-so-luxurious condominium” (never mind the four burned out lightbulbs he’s been too lazy to change) put down the tongs and brought me roast beef.

Yes, life’s been good these last three weeks on Dave’s patio, but you know what? Other than that first night, the food around here sucks!

What’s with this Ocean Fish flavored Friskies crap Dave’s been feeding me? What happened to my roast beef? I’m tired of you humans complaining that cats don’t like dry cat food. Have you ever tried the stuff yourselves? It’s nasty!

Now Mr. Barbecue Tongs is whining that I don’t visit enough. Why should I? The guy next door is feeding me chicken and sardines. Dave can keep his Friskies. Pour some milk on them and slice up a banana if you like, Dave.

But I’m keeping Dave around for now. He’s got a cool pad.

See, what Dave does not know (in addition to what to feed a cat, how to tell the difference between a boy and a girl, and how to change a lightbulb) is that when I snuck into his condo three weeks ago, I stole his keys. He goes to work every day and I let myself in. I watch TV. I raid the fridge. I play with the toilet water. It’s awesome. I’m typing this right now on Dave’s computer. If only hadn’t gone out of business, I could have ordered out for squid.

Bring on the catnip! The party is just beginning!

I do not, as Dave crassly implied, drink his beer.

Beer is for peasants. I go for his single malt scotch and cigars.


But the party is just beginning. Dave takes off for seven weeks in Europe next Wednesday. And on Thursday I will break out the catnip and turn his place into the Seattle Kittycat Discorama. If you are a feline, please e-mail me  for further information.

I overheard Dave talking about me with his neighbors this evening. They were comparing notes on what they’ve been feeding me, and it’s about time. Maybe Dave will get the hint. He’s been talking about adopting me when he gets home if I’m still around. And I might go for that if he’d feed me some decent grub.


But I’ll tell you something: If all I’m going to get around here is Ocean Fish flavored Friskies, I’m going to have to….

Eek! Key in the door! Gotta go!

Published on Sunday, August 12, 2001

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