I've had my cat Martin for thirteen years. He's orange, he's ornery, he's opinionated. He often disagrees with me when it comes to watching Chopped and Cutthroat Kitchen. He usually votes for whomever he thinks would give him the most seafood, whereas I generally go for whichever contestant is the least annoying. He doesn't speak names, but I understand what his irate meows mean. We have a bond.
Martin and I sat down over the water dish and I gave him a forum in which he could talk about various topics he decided in the moment he feels very strongly about.
ORB: Welcome to the kitchen, Martin. It's nice to have you here today. You're looking especially dapper with your freshly washed haunch fur.
Martin: Thank you, I cleaned it myself. Uriko tried to help but I hissed at her and she definitely got the message.
ORB: You've often stated there should be less regulation on the distribution of wet food in the house. What are your thoughts on the effectiveness of the Boston Tea Party?
Martin: It got the colonists more tea, didn't it? Next question.
ORB: That wasn't... really the point of the protest, but okay. You understand the working man's plight, and really identify yourself as part of the 99%. How do you justify your obsession with handbags, both expensive and cheap?
Martin: Who doesn't like a good purse? There's nothing better than the intrigue, the mystery of it all. The smells alone are glorious. What could be inside? I'd better climb in to find out! I don't discriminate, either. I will crawl right up on a satchel no matter what the size or cost. And pay no attention to anyone who's told you I've stolen their loose change, it's a lie. They're all liars. Let's move on.
ORB: Understood. Finally, let's get serious. Let's get real. Let's get tough. You've battled with your weight your entire life. When we first met you were a svelte teen with everything coming his way. Then, a scant five years later a vet pulled you from your carrier and exclaimed with concern, "Well, don't you have a big head?" Where do you see the game of golf in five years?
Martin: If it's up to me, they'll have gotten rid of those ridiculous metal clubs in favor of batting the ball around with their hands like real men. I can't take anyone seriously if they're not willing to get their paws dirty. Sand trap or not, you get right up in there and you swing like you've never swung before. And they call themselves athletes. Ridiculous. This interview is over!
At this time, Martin terminated the interview, turning with a flare and going to squeeze himself into the cat bed with Lump in hopes I would turn on the heater. Thank you for joining us! Stay tuned and maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to get an interview with the ever elusive Snapshot.