Convo with the Cat

Yeah, you read that right. I talk to my cat. She totally talks back, or meows, but I get what she's trying to say. This morning, I came home from work all sick in my stomach and went to hang out in her bathroom, so I didn't disturb husband for our 5 year anniversary.

Cat: What up?
Me: Go away, I'm busy.
Cat: Wanna pet me?
Me: No. My stomach is being ripped out through my bum.
Cat: So, that's a maybe? What if I just used your hand to pet me?
Me: Seriously kitty? Go away. I'm busy.
Cat: Dude, it's cool, I just leave nuggets around your floor so you can find them later and remember how awesome I am.
Me: I hate you.
Cat: So, wanna feed me?
Me: Really kitty? Why aren't you bugging He-human?
Cat: Because you're more busy than he is. So I must obviously be right under your feet so you know and remember how much you love me.
Me: dfrwesahufenuisenfvgoiw
Cat: LOVE ME!
Me: No.
Cat: Ummm, so remember how you like walking and not tripping, I think I'm going to stay one half step in front of you while you walk in the dark.
Me: Dammit kitty, I'm going to give you to the Shit-zoos!
Cat: Love me?

And that is how it goes every morning, only usually I don't feel like my stomach is trying to kill me or that my butt is falling off. The cat talks to me, walks underfoot, tries to kill me, and then she jumps on husband and snuggles into him while I'm muttering death threats. At least she does it to him too, so I don't feel so crazy.