“I dunno, Ross. It smells like chipmunk to me.”
“How can you say that? There’s no stripes. It’s obviously a hamster.”
“Naaaah, those don’t make it outside. You have to go inside to get them.”
“Mebbe it got loose or something. They’re pretty smart.”
“Couldn’t have been that smart if it let itself get caught by you.”
“I still say hamster.”
“I still say chipmunk, but you go on and smell its bu…oh geez, here come the cats again!”
“Quick, say somethin’ telligent-like.”
”...and that is why I think that Van Gogh was ass-tettically superior to, um, Dat Vinci.”
“Nice try, doofus,” the feline said airily as he and his companion breezed by, tails in the air.
“Snooty puss,” Ross huffed with a spray of slobber that nearly caught the lead tabby.
“Philistine dog,” hissed the second cat with a menacing show of pointy teeth.
“Now, now,” soothed her beau, “Don’t stoop to their level. You know how dogs are.” And with that they padded away.
“Hmph. I still say it’s a hamster.”
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