The Rodent Extractor
copyright © 2003 by Robert L. Blau
When Master called me into his study, I was expecting
a good scratch behind the ears. But he was wearing a "no kitty treats
today" expression.
"Meow?" I inquired.
"Whiskers," said Master, "I'm afraid you're getting
soft."
"Um, cats are supposed to be soft," I reminded
him. "It's one of our most endearing features." I purred ingratiatingly.
"No," he continued. "That isn't what I mean. What
I mean is that I think you're losing your edge. Mouse-catching-wise,
that is."
"Excuse me?" said I incredulously. "Have you seen any
mice around here lately?"
"Well, no," he admitted, "but experts say that competition
is necessary to achieve peak efficiency."
"And just what experts would you be talking about?"
I probed.
"Well, ... all of them," he said. "You know, all our
elected and appointed officials and all their advisors. And the corporations
that give them all those big campaign contributions. They know all
about economics and things. Face it, Whiskers. You have a monopoly
on rodent extermination here. You must be subjected to unfettered free
market forces. I'm deregulating you."
My back arched without the participation of my brain.
"Not another cat?" I hissed.
"Relax, Whiskers," said Master. "No more cats. I'm
getting something better! A Rodent Extractor!"
"A what?" I plumped down on the carpet.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
"A Rodent Extractor!" gushed Master excitedly. "It's
the latest thing. They're cheaper, cleaner, and more efficient than
cats."
"Wait a minute!" I objected. "How could anything be
cheaper than me? I just showed up on your doorstep one day and mewed
soulfully."
"Well, maybe, but since then, it's been nothing
but food, kitty litter, and vet bills. Why, getting you neutered alone
cost ..."
"Oh, yes," I hissed. "I never properly thanked you for
that." I did a quick mental inventory of Master's shoes. "So,
when does this extractor thing arrive?"