secret tabbies

“This is such a downgrade,” complained Chonk, pawing morosely at the lump on the floor.

“I know,” Moose agreed. She sniffed it for the third time, and finally batted it under the couch. “It looks like your litter box after you’ve eaten –”

“Thanks for that,” Chonk interrupted, swishing his tail in irritation. “I don’t want to know why you’re looking at my litter box.”

“Anyway,” Moose said. “The service here has gone downhill since the Purple Hair left.” Chonk meowed grumpily. “The other Humans seem to think that that,” she flicked her tail towards the couch, “is a perfectly good substitute for tuna. Don’t they know we’re Tabbies? I don’t even get my water.” 

Chonk snorted, and pointedly leaned down to sip at the kitchen water fountain.

“Listen, I told you, it –”

“-- tastes better, yes, i’m aware.” He coughed into a paw. “... Snob.”