Fishers of Cats

“You know that river outside our Shackteau is the Mississippi River,” stated Lamont.

“Of course, we know it’s the Mississippi,” replied Patchtricia. “We know that. Despite all the time you spend on the computer doing research, Paw and I know quite a bit as well you know.”

“Okay,” responded Lamont, “do you know what most of those folk out there either sitting and running about in boats are? Do you know that?”

“Yes we do,” added Pawline, “most of them are fishermen. Some just want to run up and down the river in the boats, but a lot of them are fishermen. Or should that be fisher people, we cats are known for our political correctness and don’t like upsetting people unnecessarily.”

“Very good my sisters,” said Lamont. “You are far wiser than you often act. But have you considered why they fish? I mean they spend hours doing it. I’ve even heard our whiskerless furless servant say she like to fish, but she seems to think she has to have Ooo’s company in order to do it. Weird.”

“The furless ones indeed have very strange behavior patterns,” continued Paw. “I hear the spend an inordinate amount of money for those boats and even more on gadgets that tell them were the fish are, motors that make the boat go slow rather than fast. And then they buy enormous motors to make the go really fast to places where they then just stop and sit. In fact, we have several fishing contests that take place right here, with boats roaring off every few minutes to get to their special places. Then later than all come back and compare who got the most or best or biggest fish. And they are selfish. Never once out of all those fish have they ever brought one to us so we could eat it. After all that noise they create you’d think they’d have some manners to share. After all we share our food, some of it fish that our furless servants bring us in cans.”

“You are remarkably aware dear sisters, of what is going on with these fisher folk,” said Lamont. “But do you know this? Among all the types of fish they catch, one type is catfish!”

“Catfish!,” exclaimed Patch most fearfully and immediately went to hide in her special bed by the window. “Catfish, they catch catfish and then eat them? That’s awful. I see terrible stories on the TV about evil things furless critter do, but eating catfish. Oh my, it sends shivers up my spine and makes my hair stand on end.”

“Good grief,” exclaimed Paw, “You don’t suppose our dear whiskerless furless servant who serves us gourmet meals, and pets us for long periods of time each evening, who wants to catch fish. Would she, could she, is it at all possible, she might want to… (Paw shivers visibly and with a catch in her voices continues,) is it possible she might want to eat us?” Oh my!”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies, “said Lamont. “I think I may rename each of you Emily Latella. You have it all and completely wrong. Catfish are not cats! They are just fish. They are called catfish because they have things on their faces that look like whiskers as we have whiskers. They are more plentiful the lower part of our state, Wisconsin. Channel catfish are particularly abundant on the Wisconsin River and the Castle Rock Dam.

“Our humans eat fish, they might even eat a catfish on occasion. But they do not eat cats!”

“Nevermind,” reply Patch and Paw in unison. Then, they all lie down for deserved naps and groom each other a bit.