A September to Remember

I decided to try my hand at homeschooling, so I asked our cats to write a report about how their September has been so far. Here they are:

Mackin:
“I licked a pumpkin.
There is a new rug in the kitchen and it is soft and squishy.
I love my Dad.”

Carrick:
“September is my favorite! There’s so much going on!
There’s been a change in the kitchen—the island is gone!
At first it was weird; I had no place to climb.
But now there’s a buffet and I’ve claimed it as mine.
I sit there at night, looking up at the shelves,
I’m planning to climb them and not behave myself.
My favorite thing about the island being gone
is having so much space to play and run on—
I run from the front door and hop over chairs,
then skid through the kitchen and right down the stairs!
I like to play in the basement, hunting for crickets—
there might be one left and I don’t want to miss it.
I was playing alone when I broke Dad’s favorite mug,
but I can’t play with Mackin; he’s in love with a rug.

Mommy put fall decorations all over the place—
Mackin licked a pumpkin and threw up in my face.
Mommy also hung a garland of shiny fall leaves
but she made a mistake—it’s too high to reach!

Last week was exciting—we had a new kind of treats!
They tasted like tuna and were so good to eat.
Seamus didn’t like them, so Mom switched to the old ones;
that doesn’t seem fair, but it’s just how this house runs.

The best part of September is the heat in the vents;
I lie right on top of them, warm and content.
I’m headed there now, so thank you for listening—
more people should—I think I’m quite interesting!
But Mommy says now it is Seamus’s turn—
why does he always seem to get the last word?”

Seamus:
“Shoo, pesky munchkin! Go play with Mackin—
he’s back on the rug; you can both get your naps in.
What do I think of September? It’s mediocre thus far—
Nothing to write about in my upcoming memoir.
Yes, the kitchen is different, but I don’t really care.
it doesn’t affect me—my treats are still there.
Last week the treats changed, and it made me quite mad;
I know Mom wouldn’t do that; I blame my dad.
The treats that he bought weren’t even worth licking—
I like the ones that taste just like chicken.

The new fall decorations are surprisingly fun—
I’ve waged war on three pumpkins and of course I have won.
The wars are now over—no more pumpkins for me—
I saw Mackin lick one and then watched him heave.

I have several more blankets now that it’s cooler;
When it comes to staying warm, I’m definitely the ruler.
I enjoy cozy blankets and sitting on Mom;
I like to sit on her face, but Dad says, “Nope. Wrong.”
He thinks Mom can’t breathe when I’m sitting on her,
but I hear her breathing even through my loud purr.
I love blankets and bedtime, but I do have one issue:
Mom and Dad now watch nothing but news, news, and more news.
We used to watch shows that I found quite interesting,
like “My Cat from Hell” and Netflix’s “Tiger King.”
So now when I’m bored, I step on the remote—
the TV turns off, and Dad says, “Seamus, don’t.”

This completes my report on the events of September—
it’s far from remarkable—not one to remember.
At least Carrick is busy on the buffet and the stairs;
I see him less often, not that I care.
I suppose if he wanted, I’d play with him—once.
If Mackin got up off his rug, we three just might have fun.”