Oreo, We Need To Talk

"Oreo? Oreo, look at me."


"Oreo, I'm serious. We need to talk."

"I don't want to."

"You know what this is about, don't you?"


"It doesn't pay to try to ignore me. I'm not going to go away."


"I think it's time you went on a diet. You know, start taking care of yourself. You're not getting any younger, you know."

"I don't want to."

"Well, I'm afraid you have no choice. I'm the one that feeds you after all."

"I don't care. I'll find other ways to get food. You can't stop me."

"Oh yes I can. I also think you need to start getting a little bit of exercise. All you do is lay around here like you own the place, hissing at anyone that dares to invade your space and disturb you."

"I get plenty of exercise. I walk from here to my bowl twice a day, and I walk down the stairs to get to my litterbox. Why did you put my litterbox in the basement, anyway? You know I hate those damned stairs."

"That's not exercise. You barely break a sweat doing those things. If they weren't a necessity, you'd not do them at all. And for your information, smarty-pants, I moved your litterbox downstairs because it stinks."

"I take insult to that."

"It's true. Beside, it doesn't kill you to use the stairs since that seems to be the only exercise you get. You weigh 16lbs, for goodness sakes!"

"I hate that bathroom scale. I'm going to do something to it one night while you're sleeping. Cats are not meant to be weighed."

"I have no worries about that. You'd have to actually walk to the bathroom, and that never happens. The bathroom scale is safe."

"Fine, I'm going to poop in the middle of your bed when you're not looking."

"No worries there either. My bed is upstairs, someplace you never go for it's too much work."


"Dismiss me all you like, tomorrow, we diet."