Meeee-owwww! Isn’t food great? The way it tastes, the way it smells, the way my little kitty cat body involuntarily begins to float through the air when it’s around.
Ooh wee! You better be careful not to put any of these items out on a window sill unattended! If you do, I, a cartoon cat, might just begin to spontaneously levitate toward said items and GRAB ‘EM… you know… with my little, tiny kitty cat mittens.
Puuuuurrrrrrrr. This puddy cat loooovvees seeing a poor, defenseless turkey sitting on a kitchen counter. I just can’t help myself.
The key to sneaking up on a turkey is to keep a low, surreptitious float until you’re right at the kitchen counter. Once at eye level, you grab a hot, tasty leg and eat it like an old-fashioned typewriter. Nom nom nom nom nom.
Mew! Mew! Mew! A can of tuna is a red alert for any self-respecting cartoon cat. When that fishy smell penetrates my olfactory organs, I melt into a puddle of liquid before reconstituting myself again as solid matter. Once returned to my original state, I begin to float erratically in a zig-zagging pattern through two-dimensional space until I have located and consumed the tuna, can and all.
A classic of the floating cartoon character genre. This feline will hiss vociferously at any dog, mouse, bird, pig, or human who gets in my way when a hot pie is present. This is no joke.
It’s best to be direct when floating toward a pie; just go directly to the window sill it is undoubtedly cooling on. As you get closer, begin to inhale quickly, from several feet away, as if your mouth was a vacuum. The pie won’t stand a chance.
When I smell a HOT HOT HOT loaf of banana bread, I go WILD. I start running around erratically, obstinately clawing the couch, and meowing in an insistent, ill-tempered way. When I catch a whiff of that sweet B and B, I float butt first toward the nearest table, wrap my little tabby tail around that steamy loaf, and gulp it down in one single bite.
There is almost nothing this little mouser likes more than a movie and some popcorn. When popcorn is in the air, so am I. Aloft, I float gingerly in the direction of the microwave before securing my prize. Once in my possession, I juggle five to ten pieces at a time before widening my jaw, directing the pieces skyward and, as they form a single column, catching each morsel in my open kitty cat mouth.
You don’t have to hate Mondays to love some sweet I-tal-yan lasagna. Whenever a tray of piping hot za is in my vicinity, I pull out a large mallet and bash myself over the head five to seven times to get myself in the mood. Thoroughly zooted, I float upside down to the countertop where the cooling, vulnerable lasagna awaits. Once there, I carve out exactly one corner piece with a single claw and abscond to my secret lair.
Ham, ham, it’s good for my belly! When I eat it I turn to jelly! That was just a little something I came up with.
If ham is cooking, I’m floating HIGH. Way, way up to the ceiling. The higher the ceiling the better! Once the ham is in my sights, I dive bomb, swallow the whole leg of ham in one go, and slowly pull out the completely clean bone while I cartoonishly lick my lips.
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Can kitty cats be cookie monsters? You betcha. And since I’m just a little perfect cartoon tomcat and not a real cat, I can eat chocolate and not die of liver failure. Ha ha!
When a plate of chocolate chip cookies are fresh out of the oven, I’ll float, toolbag in tow, to the underside of the table they’re cooling on. From there, I’ll pull out a saw, cut a perfect circle underneath where the delicious treats are resting, and tilt the entire plate of cookies right into my mouth.
Freshly Baked Bread
Freshly baked bread makes me lose my cool. As soon as I spot a fresh loaf of French bread or a long and tasty baguette, my eyes bug out of my head and I let out a sharp “AWOOOOGA.” Then I float in circles around the freshly baked bread taking in the flavorsome, yeasty smell before pouncing on it with incredible ferocity.
I’m a cool cat. When someone is brewing some coffee, I lower my Wayfarer sunglasses and let them fall down my lil puddy cat nose. I begin to snap as jazz music starts to play. I float calmly, cooly, toward the carafe of fresh java, pour myself a cup, and sip. Can you dig it?
“Wait,” you eventually protest. “Coffee isn’t a food.” To that I say, “It is if you also eat the beans Daddy-O.”