"Get a job!" I yell, "You've been walking around this apartment for years doing nothing but eating, sleeping and making messes.  What do I need you for?"

"Meeeoww!" Coco replies, side stepping the question.

That is my latest nick-name for Lisa.  Side-stepper.  Lisa doesn't say anything as I walk her to school.  Sure, she answers direct questions, but doesn't push the conversation forward.  So most days I have to do it, and my go-to, beyond weather and traffic, it nick-names.  "I never seen a girl step like that.  I'm going to call you the Side-stepper."

"Sounds good, Daddy!"  She says, turning sideways as she walks.  

But Coco is the real side-stepper in our house.  That darn cat doesn't answer anything straight on. He just walks around, avoiding me like a weasel to a chicken farmer, hiding under chairs, and trying to sneak into the cupboards.

"I feed you and clean out your shitter every day!" I yell at him, "And when have you ever even thought about cleaning up or helping with dinner?"

Coco looks at me side-eyed.  

"Side-Eyer!"

"Daddy is talking to the cat again, Mommy." says Lisa.

"At least someone pays attention to him." I say.

I'm sorry. This blog post was supposed to be amusing.  I started writing it after an amusing interaction with the cat.  I'd had a few drinks, and struck up conversation with him.  He doesn't say much, but I infer a lot, and in a pretty good feline voice.  But by the time I get to writing it, I forget most of what was amusing about it, and can only convey what is bitter.  

"The actual conversation was pretty bitter, if you ask me." says the cat.

"Nobody asked you." I say to him, "Go clean out you litter box."

"Mommy, Daddy is drunk and bothering Coco." says Lucy.

"It's okay Lucy," my wife responds, "It's Coco's job to talk to your father when he is drunk."

They don't know what drunk is.  I'll show them.