Conversation With My Mother's Cat

It's said that on Christmas Eve, at midnight, animals can talk. So last night I waited up so I could have it out with Smokey, my mother's horrible cat. About 11:55 PM he tried to escape through his cat door, but I followed him outside, even though it was cold and windy. We sat on the front porch and had a little talk. What follows is a transcript of that conversation.

Me: All right, it's midnight on Christmas Eve. I know you can understand me, and now I can understand you back. Don't pretend you can't, I know how it works.
   Smokey: Yeah? So? I got nothing to say.
I got plenty. Let's start with why you're such a disagreeable little bastard.
   What do you mean?
We're not going to get anywhere if you shut down like that.
   We're also not going to get anywhere if you keep insulting me.
Fine. Why do you present such an angry front all the time?
   Well, to tell you the truth, I'd really rather just sit around all day licking my balls.
But you don't have any... Oh...
   Yeah. Oh.
It's really a common thing, what all responsible pet owners do.
   And that's supposed to make everything okay?
Well, I mean, I never really...
   No, your kind never does. I can't tell you how many times a day I'm grooming myself, getting the feet and the ears and the tail, then I decide to go downtown, polish up the twins, only to find they're gone.
It's been years...
   How about I get a little scissor happy below your belt? You think you wouldn't miss your two good buddies?
Let's not get hasty here...
   So you think maybe something like that might make you angry too?
I suppose it would. But are you saying that's the only reason you get in fights with other animals? Why you attack ankles and feet? Why you hiss and growl and tear around the house? You're telling me you've been such a little savage all this time because my parents had you fixed?
   That's about the size of it.
Huh. Kind of a long time to hold a grudge.
   Can you think of a better reason?
I suppose not.
   You feel better now that we've had a talk, you freakin' hippy? Glad to have something to tell your therapist?
Hey, I only live in California, I was born and raised here.
   Whatever you say, Moondoggy.
You know, when you can talk you're even more of a jerk.
   I gotta be me. Deal with it. Or don't, makes no difference.
Well... it is Christmas Eve. You want some cat treats?
   I could eat. The chicken kind, I hate the liver ones. But this doesn't make us friends.
Absolutely not. And I'm still keeping the bedroom door closed so you can't get in.
   Wouldn't have it any other way.