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— Well, what do you think of cats?
— Cats? Cats are okay, pretty neat little creatures, going on their way, doing stuff they like. Don't mind cats.
— And what about dogs?
— Hm... Never had a dog. Can't really say. Not that I had a cat either. Dogs seem... kinda untidy. There's that dog smell, y'know? Wet one. And they're so loyal you kinda just... feel bad about not being there for them always. Huh.
— Well, I, in fact, am fond of dogs! Used to have a dog as a little boy, truly that little rascal made a good portion of my childhood worthwhile!
— Oh? What's- what's his name?
— His name was Ranger! He was a jolly little one, hopping around all excitedly. We played a lot! His favorite was throwing the stick, he'd always bring it back, no matter what.
— Oh, that's... that's pretty cool actually.
— Indeed!
— Yeah you do seem like a dog kinda person now that I think about it. All aristocratic and shit.
— Wouldn't cats be more aristocratic though?
— Nah, have you seen street cats? Those guys can chew their way through a stomach if they were cornered. Wouldn't mess with street cats. They're intense. Not like street dogs.
— Hm.. Can't say I've seen many. So how do you suppose I am more of a... dog-person?
— Uhhh… Well, it's, uh…. I dunno, you- you just seem… excitable. Like a dog. VERY excitable. I don't know, it's just the general vibe, I guess?
— Huh! Never though of it that way, maybe I do have some doggy mannerisms, what with being a dog owner in the past… You know, Ed, if I had to compare you to an animal as well… I think you'd be a cat.
— Wha- really..?
— Oh yes! You are very independent, just like a cat! You stick around when you want, and leave when you don't! I admire that in you. It looks like you've got your needs and wants sorted out.
— Oh, mate…
— And, as you said, street cats can be rather intense, can't they? So can you! When put under enough pressure.
— Hehe, yeah… What about you, though? You fine with being a dog?
— Oh absolutely, I'd love being a dog. Running around aimlessly, digging in dirt, while it may be rather… dirty, seems rather adventurous! I'd be digging up my own doggy treasures!
— And I'd be just sleeping on a branch in a tree somewhere, lazily looking down at you digging up stuff. Which dog would you be, by the way? Like a … a golden retriever?
— Hm, haven't thought of a breed for myself… I don't think I'd be cut out for hunting or battle. Maybe I'd be a small companion dog! Like an excitable spaniel! *snicker* And what about you? What sort of cat would you be?
— Well, a street cat, no? They don't have a breed. They don't care. They can be a mix of two most aristocratic breeds and they don't care. They're street cats.
— But what if a street cat were to be taken by a nobleman?
— Well, then… then it's not a street cat anymore, is it? It's a noble cat. Breed-less, but noble. Y'know, 'cuz of the nobleman.
— What if the nobleman recognizes the two aristocratic breeds of the cat and decides on its actual breed?
— What, is he a pro? Does he specialize in cat breeds?
— Maybe he does!
— I dunno, if he doesn't have a license for that maybe I wouldn't believe him.
— He is a licensed specialist, specializing in cat breeds specifically. It's a very narrow branch to specialize in. He's the best in the field.
— Huh. Alright, then maybe I'll believe him. We'll see. What breed does he think I'd be?
— From his initial analysis, he supposes your ravishingly soft fur, your relaxed yet threateningly composed posture and adorable paws may point to you being a bigger cat mix, like the ones I've heard of recently. Maine-coons, were they?
— Never heard of them. What are they like?
— From what I've heard, they weigh about ten pounds average. So they're about — this big. They have a very long yet fluffy fur, and they seem to look closer to tigers or wild cats, than actual domestic cats.
— Oh… so they're that big?
— Yes, it would appear so.
— Aw man… I dunno. Maybe I don't wanna be a big cat.
— Oh-
— Maybe I wanna be like, a lap cat, you know? One you could pick up easily, without its weight breaking your bones and shit. Maybe I don't wanna be massive.
— Oh, that's- that's totally fine, I simply supposed… Yes, that's perfectly fine, too! Let's see… Oh, what about Chantilly cats?
— No idea. What are they?
— Almost the same amount of hair as Maine Coons, just as fluffy, but much smaller in size. They're medium-sized cats, perfectly fit on a person's lap. I've actually seen some that were completely black!
— Oh, yeah, that's me, that's me that you've seen then, yeah. The black one. That's me.
— Well, it would appear that your noble owner has indeed managed to pinpoint your actual breed.
— Oh good.
— Your fur hair may have looked somewhat untidy, with some locks here and there that you had no time to tend to, seeing as you were in a dangerous environment —
— Oh yeah, can't be distracted on the streets, risk being ambushed, for sure.
— —but your owner nursed you back to your initial healthy and gorgeous condition. Your black fur is blistering in the shiny sunrays, there's not a hair amiss, as you are thoroughly groomed every day. It's a pleasant procedure — you are laying on a comfortable settee by the window as a small brush softly goes through your fur in a massaging manner.
— Mm…
— You're purring from how comfortable you feel, laying there, having your beloved owner's hands going through your freshly brushed fur, scratching your belly.
— Oh man…
— And your owner may be leaving for work soon enough, and you'll have the whole mansion to yourself!
— Fu-u-uck, I wanna be a cat!!
— Huh?
— I wanna just sleep all day without a care, I wanna be groomed and scratched and shit!! Fuck!
— Oh, *snicker*. Sorry, I may have gone a bit overboard with that picture, haven't I?
— No, it was perfect! It's the perfect life for me!!
— Well, uh… Maybe in your next life, you'll be revived as one?..
— Yeah, but I'd be just a street cat then, no? No nobleman would pick up a street cat. Especially not a cat breed specialist.
— Well, maybe not a cat breed specialist, but what if it were just a regular nobleman?
— Regular's fine. Any nobleman would do.
— What if it were me?
— You- … Oh I'd like you of course, for sure.
— Even if I'm not a cat breed specialist?
— 'Fcourse. And actually you sort of are, you know all these cat breeds I've never even heard of, that's enough for me.
— Would you like me to groom you daily?
— Oh yeah, gotta do it everyday, can't miss a day in the week for that, man. It's your job now. Otherwise I'd just walk around throwing hairs wherever I go, can't have that, mate.
— And scratch you on the belly when I'm done?
— Absolutely, that whole procedure is pointless without it, it's basically the finishing move. You can't go without that.
— And go to work afterwards?
— Oh, you- you have work? What kind of work?
— I don't know, maybe I'd have to meet up with some other landowners to possibly purchase more.
— Alright, can I go with you then?
— Haven't you mentioned you'd like to be a lap-cat? You'd be more comfortable inside, no?
— Not if you're not around. I wanna go with you.
— Oh, well… Would you climb on my shoulder, like a parrot?
— Yeah, I'd climb around your neck, too, I'd be like a living scarf!
— What if it's too hot to have a scarf on?
— I'll climb on your head.
— If the sun's up, then your black fur would simply overheat! We can't have that!
— Oh, right… I dunno, inside your pocket or something?
— What about inside my jacket?
— Anywhere, man. As long as you'll have me there.
— *snicker* I absolutely would.
— Hehe.
— Heh.
— …
— …
— …
— … Would you like me to groom your hair? I do have a brush.
— You.. what-?..
— If- you're comfortable, of course-
— I mean yeah, sure, uh, do whatever, yeah. Yeah.
— Oh, wonderful! I thought you'd say no.
— Why- why's that?
— Don't know, you just seem like the type that's sort of… against others touching you. Like a cat, in a way.
— Yeah well maybe I'm just a picky cat. I don't let everyone pet me. Only some.
— And that includes me?
— Yeah. You. You can pet me. As long as you're not an asshole. Or your petting privileges would be revoked.
— Oh, no worries, I'd never be!
— Good. Then your petting privileges stay. For now.
— I hope they stay enough for me to properly brush your hair out then.
— Maybe they will. We'll see.
— … So you're a softie cat, then?
— What's that mean? You want your privileges gone?
— No, no, that's just an observation. You did mention that you'd like to follow me around everywhere, even outside. As a cat.
— Yeah. So what? Like I said. I'm just picky.
— Then I'm happy you picked me.