Where do you go?
What do you mean?
I mean where do you go when you leave here?
Many different places, Gibbs.
I go to work Monday through Friday.
Are those the days you get up really early?
With you, I’m up early every day.
It’s true Mr. 4:00 a.m., but on work days, I don’t come home until after I’ve starved you to death.
Yes, those days.
Where else do you go?
I go to church on Sunday morning, then I normally go to see my mother.
What happened to my cat mother?
I don’t know Gibbs, I adopted you.
Right, I forgot. Keep going…
On Saturdays, I tend to go shopping, running errands, perhaps stopping for coffee and breakfast, completing projects, etc. It’s whatever I need to or want to do.
Ziva and I would prefer if you didn’t need to clip our claws. We don’t like that.
Ziva put you up to that, right?
What’s a Saturday and Sunday?
It’s two days that I don’t have to work and get to sleep in.
The days when you’re kind of here, but you still run off, subjecting your kids to boredom?
Those would be the days, you poor unfortunate cat.
Yup, that’d be me! Where else do you go? Sometimes you come home on your work days, then leave again.
Those are the days when I might have a church function, yoga practice or a poetry class.
I’ve read your poetry. You should stay home.
Thanks a lot Gibbs.
Just telling you the truth. I would write poetry for you, but I can never come up with words that rhyme with starving, abused and neglected.
Creepers. Ha! I rhymed!
Shut up and go lay down on the bed. I have to leave.
Where are you going now?
To go have my head examined.
Psychotherapy to figure out why I put up with shenanigans and insults from a cat.
Bye Gibbs. I’ll see you in an hour.
Well, okay, bye. Are you going to feed us when you get back?
I fed you an hour ago. So, no.
Yeah, I know. Bye Gibbs.