mbarker | Hold My Beer (800 words)

My prompt from https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/05/20/week-21-of-odd-prompts/

You come home from a long day at work and plop down on the couch with a beer. The cat looks up and says, “Hey, can I have one too?”

Hum, but can the cat open the pop-top? Or use the bottlecap opener?

Hold My Beer (800 words)

by Mike Barker

Harold stepped through the doorway of his apartment, dropped his briefcase, and leaned back against the door, slamming it. He reached over his shoulder and flipped the lock closed. Then he picked up the chain and slid it into place. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and just shuddered.

"E gads, I hate Mondays!"

When he opened his eyes, he felt a little better.

That's when Mr. Dibs walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, put his front paws out and stretched luxuriously, then stood up and gave a piteous meow.

Harold had to chuckle.

"Yes, it's time for your dinner. All right, let me take care of that."

He straightened up and walked into the kitchen. Mr. Dibs, the cat, followed him, then sat down inside the doorway. Harold got out a can of cat food, picked up the bowl from the floor and rinsed it out, then popped the top on the cat food. He got a spoon and carefully cleaned the can out, breaking it up into a number of pieces. Mr. Dibs wouldn't eat it if you just dumped the lump of cat food in the bowl. He set the bowl down, then checked the water fountain to make sure there was water in the reservoir and that the water in the base was clean.

Then he opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of beer, and walked back out into the living room. He sprawled across the sofa, and blinked a little.

Mr. Dibs had followed him back into the living room. Maybe he wasn't hungry for dinner yet?

Harold leaned over and popped the top on the beer. He started to salute Mr. Dibs with the can.

That's when Mr. Dibs walked over and put his paw on Harold's knee. Then he gave Harold a little cat smile, with those sharp teeth glittering. And Mr. Dibs said, "Why don't you get me one of those?"

Harold froze. He slowly put the can down on the coffee table. He closed his mouth, and shook his head.

"Wait. I didn't... Did you... What..."

Mr. Dibs sank his claws into Harold's knee.

"Ouch! Why did you do that?"

Mr. Dibs shrugged. And talked again.

"You were babbling. Now, why don't you get me a beer?"

Harold ran his hand over his mouth.

"So when did you start talking?"

Mr. Dibs frowned.

"First, get me a beer. Then I'll think about answering questions."

Harold looked around the room.

"Is this one of those Candid Camera gags? Am I going to be on TV?"

Mr. Dibs lifted his paw, then set it down and sank his claws in again.

"No, it's really me. What about that beer?"

Harold scratched his head. He started to get up, then looked at his beer sitting on the coffee table, and at the cat. He picked up the beer and took a healthy swig. Then he went into the kitchen and got another can, and a bowl. He carried the bowl and the can back into the living room and set the can in the bowl on the floor. He sat down holding his beer in his hands.

Mr. Dibs looked at the can, then glared at Harold.

"Really funny. Thumbs! Open the can."

Harold nodded. Then he opened the can and poured a little bit into the bowl.

"There you go, start with that."

Mr. Dibs walked over and started lapping up the beer.

"Now, when did you start talking?"

There was a series of lapping sounds. Then Mr. Dibs lifted his head and burped.

"That's very good. Actually, I could ask you the same question, when did you start talking?"

Harold shook his head.

"But… I don't remember. When I was very young."

Mr. Dibs nodded.

"Same here. What did you expect, some magical date?"

This time Harold shrugged.

"I guess I did. But… Why are you talking to me now?"

Mr. Dibs chuckled.

"Actually… I didn't want to listen to you griping again about what a rotten day you had had. So I thought I would give you something else to think about. It worked, didn't it?"

Harold picked up his beer. He swigged from it. Then he smiled.

"You got that right. So what happens now?"

Mr. Dibs drank some of his beer, too. Then he lifted his eyes and stared at Harold.

"Well, we can skip the whole green eggs and ham, Cat in the Hat, I'm Sam I am business. I'm just your cat. Or actually, I should say you're just my person. Okay? And don't expect me to entertain you. That's not what I do."

Harold nodded. Mr. Dibs blinked, and pawed at the bowl.

"Actually... there is a little job that you could help me with."

(to be continued? maybe...)