Protest

Photo by Jan’s Archive on Unsplash

“Come down. Please.”

“No.”

“But it’s been days.”

“I’m protesting.”

“You can’t stay in the tree forever.”

“I can if I want.”

“I said sorry.”

“Your apology is futile.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Go back in time and don’t touch my stuff without permission.”

“Well I can’t do that, can I? Look, I’m sorry. Truly sorry. But you have to understand that your stuff is gross.”

“Gross how?”

“It was a dead, headless mouse.”

“So?”

“You left it on my pillow.”

“So?”

“I woke up with its blood on my face.”

“So?”

“So… It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. Next time I won’t throw any dead mice away without consulting you first. I promise.”

“You really, really promise?”

“Yes, Fluffy. I really, really promise.”

“Okay.”

“Great! Come on then, come down.”

“I…”

“What?”

“Well, I think I’m a little stuck. Meow?”

“If you got yourself up there you can get yourself down.”

“Meow.”

“You can do it, Fluff. I’m not coming up to get you.”

“Meow.”

“Oh, for the love of… I suppose now isn’t a good time to remind you that you’re a human, not a cat?”

“Meowhat?”

“Nothing. Never mind. And on second thoughts you can stay in the tree for as long of you like.”

“Meokay.”