Conversations with the cat

By: Joe Weaver - Contributing columnist

A lot of the readers of this column have expressed an interest in hearing from Cooper, our cat. Occasionally, as mentioned in this column, I have had conversations with Cooper. Largely one-sided, since cats do not, as far as I know, speak or understand the English language, but conversations nonetheless.

I have imagined what Cooper would say, beyond the often quizzical looks I get from him. What follows are transcripts of those conversations. Cooper’s legal counsel has advised me that I can publish them, as I have Cooper’s consent and there is nothing illegal or libelous in the content. Mostly because he is a cat, and cats do not have protection under the United States Constitution.

Conversation No. 1

Cooper: “Aren’t you tired, Dad?”

Me: “Not really, bud. Why do you ask?”

Cooper: “It’s getting kinda late. You usually don’t stay up this late.”

Me: “I don’t have to work in the morning. I get to stay up late sometimes.”

Cooper: “Sometimes you go to bed early.”

Me: “Sometimes I have a long day, bud, and I’m tired.”

Cooper: “I’m tired. I think I had a long day, too.”

Me: “I worked all day. What did you do today that makes you so tired now?”

Cooper: “I napped a lot.”

As you can see, they are not terribly spellbinding. However, you asked for them, so here they are.

Conversation No. 2 (immediately after my wife created a Facebook page for him)

Cooper: “This Facebook thing is neat.”

“Glad you like it, bud.”

“A lot of people like me.”

“You’re very likable.”

“Will they play ‘king of the beasts’ with me?”

“I dunno, Coop. You’ll have to ask them.”

“They want to play with me, but I don’t know what Candy Crush is.”

“You know when you get poop on you and we have to hold you under the water in the sink?”

“I don’t like that.”

“That’s what Candy Crush is.”

Conversation No. 3 (after my wife had knee surgery)

Cooper: “I am king of the bea— “

“Nope. Still not king of the beasts.”

“I shall kill you. Look what I did to your female.”

“She had surgery, Cooper. You did not do that.”

“I have disabled her. I am king of the — “

“Nope. No you are not.”

“I am king of the — ”

“Beasts. I get it. Tell me, do kings of the beasts hide in an LL Bean shoebox?”

Conversation No. 4 (Cooper discovers the internet after he gets his Facebook page)

Cooper: “Ich bin König der Tiere.”


“Ich bin König der Tiere.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am king of the beasts.”

“Well, king of the beasts, why are you speaking German?”

“Sie verließ den Laptop auf. Ich habe entdeckt, Google Translate.”

“Google Translate? Really?”


“You are a cat. What are you doing on my laptop?”

“I’m on Facebook now, you know.”

“Yes, you are. That does not mean you can use the laptop whenever you want.”

“Does that mean I have to delete my e-Harmony profile?”

“You have an e-Harmony profile?”

“Ja. Ich bin sehr beliebt.”

Conversations Nos. 5 & 6 (Cooper has decided he is the alpha male in the house)

Cooper: “I am king of — “

“I’m trying to sleep, King of the Beasts.”

“I challenge you to a fight to the death.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I am king of the — “


“I challenge you to a fight to the — “

“Death. I got that part.”

“I am king of the — “

“Beasts. I know. And you challenge me to a fight to the death.”

“Yes, for I am the king of the —”

“Wanna play in your empty shoe box instead?”

“I am king of the —”

“Shoebox or string?”

“The king of the beasts wishes to play with string. Then I shall kill you.”

Cooper: “I am king of the —”

“Not again, Cooper. You are not the king of the beasts.”

“I shall slay you.”

“Before or after you drop the spangly crinkle mousie?”

” I am king of the —”

“Of the beasts … I get it. You’ve been telling me all week”

“I shall kill you.”

“No. No you won’t.”

“Yes. I shall kill you.”

“From inside a paper bag?”

” I am king of the — “

“Stop it now.”

“I am king of the beas — “

“Well, king of the beasts, you’re walking funny with that piece of masking tape on your foot.”

When I mentioned this column to Cooper, he was pretty excited. Excited, until a squirrel jumped into the flower box on our front porch and Cooper was too interested in the squirrel to care about the column.

“Coop, you’re gonna be in the paper.”


“The paper. I’m writing about you in this week’s column.”

“Big deal, there’s a squirrel.”

“Thousands of people are going to read about you, bud.”

“But, there is a squirrel. A squirrel.”

“Bud, you are being written about by an award-winning columnist.”

“An award-winning columnist who can’t see there’s an empty food bowl.”

“It’s not empty. There’s food in it.”

“Around the edge. The center is empty.”

“There’s still food in it.”

“You’re impossible.”

Each week, I try to conclude the column with a witty little hook. I’m not so sure there’s gonna be one this week. It seems as if I have to feed the cat.

Baltimore native Joe Weaver is a husband, father, pawnbroker and gun collector. From his home in New Bern, he writes on the lighter side of family life.

Joe Weaver

Contributing columnist