Mayonnaise

As I bathe myself in the morning light on the living room carpet, Mom rolls out of bed. It’s about time, I’ve been up since Dad left at sunrise. When he wears the green apron, I know he’ll go outside for a while and come back smelling like coffee. He never lets me go with him.

“Mayonnaise!” She squeals.

She wanders in wearing a big white shirt and slippers to give me my breakfast. Good. She won’t leave today, then. She picks me up, ruining all the work I’ve done to on my white coat.

“How’s my beautiful baby?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I trill. But she’s sweet, so I don’t throw a fit for her ruining my hairdo.

Saturday mornings are perfect. Just us two. Dad’s gone so he can’t chase me around the house and make me hide under the big white blankets they sleep in. Sometimes, Mom even lets me go outside for a bit . Once Dad gets home in the afternoon, though, they start getting loud.

Mom coos, rubbing her face in my tummy, then pauses. “Do you think she’s put on a little weight?”

How dare they talk about me like I’m not here.

“She’s getting really fat! You shouldn’t be feeding her so much!” Dad likes to yell that from his computer. If I wasn’t so body positive, that’d probably hurt my feelings.

“She’d be healthier if we let her play outside.”

“No!” He doesn’t even look up from his big white monitor. “She’ll get her paws dirty and you won’t clean her.”

Mom shakes her head and then slowly blinks into my big blue eyes. “He’s delusional.”

I slowly blink back. It would be nice to go outside.

Like I was saying, Mom sneaks me out while Dad’s at work on Saturdays, and I get to climb along the mossy stairwell and rub my back along the little green vines. It’s a small territory, but I also get all that space inside to maintain every day. This outside cat named Harper comes around when I’m inside, and I like to make sure she knows whose territory this is. She never respects me. I bet she would if I was an outdoor cat.

Tonight, Harper comes to my window. She stares directly, her green eyes narrow, like she could break the glass at any moment if she wanted to.

“How’s the weather in there, Mayo?”

“I stay because I like it in here,” my ears fold back. “I can come outside whenever I want.”

“How about right now?” She cocks her head to the right, slightly. “Oh wait, you need your mommy to come out with you.”

“Shut up,” I begin cleaning myself, pretending not to care. “Just walk yourself over to one of the porches with a food bowl they have for commitment-phobes like you.”

“You’re trapped in there... I wouldn’t call it commitment when you don’t have a say over your own meals,” her tail flicking as she walks off.

I poof up and hiss. “Get the hell out of here! Stay away from my family!”

“Mayonnaise!”

I turn to see Mom, frizzy-haired and half awake. I jump into her arms, and she strokes my back until I rest my chin on her shoulder.

“Who’s harassing my perfect baby?”

When I look back, Harper is nowhere to be found. I growl.

“No one.”