3:13AM

Max wants to talk. Qu’elle surprise!

At that time of the day, my comprehension of mad cat is limited.

Perhaps he is concerned about the local cat shelter being forced to close. Governmental support is in jeopardy! It is the only place local cats can go to seek refuge from domestic abuse. (Get real! The only domestic abuse Max would need to escape is himself. And I have learned the hard way. You can’t run away from yourself. You always catch up. And boy, are you pissed that you made yourself run!)

No, I don’t think Max was discussing the local cat shelter.

Maybe he wanted to voice his outrage that no cat has ever been nominated for an Oscar, despite many riveting and outstanding performances. (Really? Can you think of any movie, other than “That Darn Cat” where a feline had anything but a fleeting performance?)

Max is not upset about the Oscars. It just isn’t his style.

Now, it is possible that Max was trying to trick me into thinking it was morning, and time for his treat.

Bingo, I think we have defined the conversation quite clearly.

But I wasn’t born yesterday. I rolled over and went back to sleep!