Tell Me the Truth

Tell Me the Truth

Buster lay in the sun. It felt good on his old bones. Now and then he rolled over to baste the other side. Baking in the sun was all the entertainment this dog of a certain age needed.

“Tell me the truth, Buster.” Misty the cat sat beside Buster and woke him.

“Go away. I’m enjoying the sun.”

“No really, tell me the truth.”

“About what? We already know you’re a princess. You tell everyone that all the time.” Buster rolled over to give Misty a glance.

“Am I getting fat?”

“Go away. You’re not fat.” Buster rolled back over, gave a big sigh. Cats were so needy.

Misty sat on his belly.

“I need to know, Buster. Jack next door said I was getting fat. Is it true?”

“Can you still fit through the dog door?” Buster still could, barely; a fact Misty would never know. If she knew that, the jokes would never end.

“Of course.”

“Then you’re not fat. Maybe you need to stop eating my food, and all those treats. Show some restraint.”

Misty stretched, padded over to the food bowls. Empty. She meowed and in came Mike.

“Oh Misty, is my little precious princess hungry? Ah, cute little baby kitty. Let’s see what little bitty treat we have today.”

Mike rummaged in the pet food shelf, brought out a little tin of salmon surprise. He opened the can, plopped it into Misty’s bowl.

“There you go. Don’t let Buster get it first.” Mike petted Misty, filled the water bowls.

“Buster, you be a good dog. No eating cat food!” Mike patted Buster on the head then left the room.

Misty smiled her sassy cat smile as she ate the salmon surprise.

Buster was miffed. “I change my answer, you are fat.”

W/C 296