A trip to the grocery store.

In a comic suggested by my Nan, the Cat Wives of New York go to the grocery store to get food. The Fluffy Calico narrates how stupid it is that everything is in cans, saying her claws are not for opening cans. In the background the Tortie with the orange chest is shoving boxes of food at me while the young tabby explores lower shelves. In the second panel, we see The Puppy playing cashier, telling the Fluffy Calico she has to pay with money, not moths. The Fluffy Calico slips her a gift card, which I note was mine. The young tabby leaps into the shopping bag. In the last panel, I am carrying the bags, complete with purring tabby, while the Tortie rolls a can down the street and the Fluffy Calico asks if the cashier is following her.

Plot suggested by my Nan, after the whole theives-using-the-gift-card-I-was-saving-for-new-glasses-to-buy-McDonald’s incident.

Also the fluffy calico is incredibly suspicious of The Puppy in real life and never wants to disclose her location if she’s being watched. WE KNOW YOU’RE ON THE PORCH, FLUFFY CALICO.

The only thing that isn’t based on reality here is my little girlfriend just jumping into a bag for me to take home WHY WON’T YOU LIVE WITH ME BABY GIRL?

And yes, The Puppy handles grocery orders all the time. That’s totally real.

How to get food.

I'm explaining to the cats how much cat food costs. The fluffy calico suggests waiting for more food to arrive. The young tabby suggests catching food. With hearts in my eyes I fawn over her while still saying no. Like NO. The fluffy calico is looking up, as if for some food.

If you knew that cat, you’d get hearts in your eyes too even if she were suggesting murders for food.

As for waiting patiently for food, the fluffy calico is the winner of that approach. She has spent full days on our porch (and roof) getting breakfast, second breakfast, brunch, lunch, antipasto, dinner, and one time she even got a midnight snack. Naturally, she does not want to live indoors where there is always food available. Cats, man. Cats.

We were out of peanut butter, too.

The fluffy calico is lounging on the porch, wondering where the food is. The Tortie with the orange chest says, "You ate it all." Meanwhile the tortie who hisses all the time is hissing at the young tabby, who is trying to bop her. I arrive with four plates of cat food and a plate with peanut butter on rye. I am still wearing cat ears, a collar, and drawn-on whiskers. I say this is all the food for now because we're out unless they like peanut butter. The tortie flips out and gets caught in a scuffle with the fluffy calico yelling, "You took my man and ate all the food!" as I say "Wait!" and the little tabby leaps away yelling, "FIGHT!"

Cat fight! This was kind of the moment that started this whole bizarre arc. One afternoon I was having my daily dalliance with my tabby girlfriend when the “grown ups” totally started wrestling. I have no idea what it was about, but my little friend sprang out of my arms and away to safety. It was serious cat business, but adorably hilarious to watch.