I was asked to do a story on the newly adopted Bodine for our company newsletter and so opted for an interview format to reveal the personality of this cat. Because you know, living in a house with two retrievers and a terrier is not for sissies. Particularly if you are of the feline persuasion, you pretty much need an overload of confidence for survival’s sake.
And this cat’s got what it takes. His confidence is trumped only by his very obnoxiousness. And oh, I am fully aware that the sweet cuddles and the purring head bumps are just a ploy in his plans to take over this household. But darn it, he’s just so good at it.
(Just a bit of back story before we get into this dialog. Bodine is a retiree from P&G Pet Care and spent some time in the office environment before we snagged him for our very own. If any interest in the the Companion Connections adoption program, contact me privately at jagerhund@frontier.com. I’ll put you in touch with our animal welfare specialist.)
So, Angela, I tried to interview Bodine like you asked, but things kind of took a turn southward. I just wanted to talk with him about how he liked life in the Sword House in the past two months since his adoption. But in the end, all I had to show for the effort was just a bunch of cattitude. Here’s the transcript of our conversation.
A disclaimer that no cats were harmed during this dialog exchange. But it was tempting.
Interview with Bodine the Cat
Donna: Bodine, come here a minute. I want to talk with you.
Bodine: What now? Oh, hey, that was Jager. I wasn’t even near the dining room table.
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| So, when are you going to do something about that terrier of yours? |
D: No, I just wanted . . . wait, what? The dining room table? Where I had all the income tax paperwork sorted out? Aw, man . . .
B: I’m tellin’ ya, Chick-a-roni. You need to do something about that terrier. He’s out of control.
D: Right. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk with you about. Listen, I was asked to interview . . .
B: Oh, I get it. You just saw the footprints on the kitchen counter, huh? Well, I have to do that at night after you’ve gone to bed. But it’s your fault, you know.
D: And how is litter box feet on my kitchen counter anywhere at all my fault, Bodine? I prepare food up there. And I don’t want your poo-tainted paws tromping across my otherwise clean counters. Is that too much to ask of you, Your Grace?
B: Hey, don’t even pretend that we don’t know the value of my litter snickers around here. Might as well put a neon Esther Price Candy sign over my litter box. If I didn’t produce such noshable treasures, then why would the dogs go through such great lengths to partake in the delicacy of the things?
D: Now Bodine, that’s just nasty. And I think my cleanliness value system rates a little higher than the dogs’.
B: That’s not what I heard.
D: Bodine!
B: Well, I only hang out in the kitchen at night because of your silly overreaction the first time you saw me up on those [cough] “clean” counters of yours. Heh, you should have seen your face. And that sound you made. Not really a shriek, more like a siren with sinus issues, I think. That was precious [wipes tears from his eyes]. The best part was when the neighbors knocked on the door to see if you were ok.
D: Now you’re exaggerating. They didn’t come over.
B: Well, they should have. It’s probably because they don’t like you.
D: Bodine! Now you’re just being mean. Where’s that sweet little cat I adopted from the PHNC? I kinda miss that guy. Remember the day I discovered we were meant to be your forever home? That one day Yaxley and I were working at the PHNC – you had walked right up to Yax while he was lying down and dropped onto his front paws. Then you rolled over onto your back and started to purr. Melted my heart, you did.
B: You liked that, didn’t you? One of my best moves. I call it the “dopey dog down” maneuver. It really works with the chicks. Right, Chick-a-roni?
D: You know, I wish you wouldn’t call me that. It’s disrespectful. After all, I take care of you and feed you and everything.
B: Ok, sure. Whatever.
D: Thank you.
B: Kibble Wench.
D: [sigh] Bodine, I know you want to exude this tough guy persona, but I’ve seen your soft side. You’re just a cuddle bunny sometimes. Albeit, a cuddle bunny with spikes. This “kneading dough” thing you do with your claws. What’s that about, anyway?
B: Just love needles, Chick-a-roni. I’m stitching my affection into you, so to speak.
D: Right, just like a tattoo. Think you might try loving me just a little more gently?
B: Sure thing. I’ll get right on that. Hey, are we done here? It’s about time for me to run around the house like my tail is on fire and watch you yell at the dogs. What’s that you’re always saying to them?
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| He is . . . the most interesting cat in the world. |
D: “Leave it.”
B: Ha ha, that’s it. So Jager doesn’t understand English, is that right? He’s always in so much trouble with you.
D: Just of recent, it seems. Dang, not only has my train of thought derailed here, but I think the caboose has caught on fire as well. Bodine, my love, let me just ask you one question before I give up on this interview idea.
B: No prob, Chickie. Shoot.
D: Ok, lemme grab my list here. Yeah so, [ahem] Question Number One. Bodine, we welcomed you into our humble household two months ago. How are you liking your forever home so far?
B: Wait! Are you serious? I’m supposed to be staying here? Forever, you say?
D: Well, yeah. That was the general idea. What did you think?
B: I don’t know. That this was a witness protection program or something. I mean, after I ate that chick’s Egg McMuffin off her desk at the PHNC, that we were just waiting out a cooling off period. Ha ha, because, boy, was she p. . .
D: Bodine?
B: Yeah?
D: That chick was me. That was my breakfast.
B: oh.
D: No matter. I’ve long since forgiven you. Especially since you’ve brought so much into our home these last two months.
B: So much . . . love?
D: Actually I was thinking “drama.” But sure, “love” works, too. And Bodine?
B: Yeah?
D: Thanks for being you. I love you just the way you are, kiddo.
B: Aww . . . [looks down] Ditto, Chickie
B: Aww . . . [looks down] Ditto, Chickie
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| Tell me the truth . . . do these patches make my butt look big? |
Go. Do. Be Dog. 