How Morty Inherited a Cat

Esther’s cat was beginning to meow a lot.

Bert had been a kind of unsuspecting cat. One that never made a peep and lived under her bed for the most part, coming out only to slop up some food and scratch at a corner of the couch. One day while waiting for food, Bert burst out with a series of very loud, somewhat harrowing meows, and never stopped. He meowed all night, he meowed whenever Esther made a move of any sort. He meowed at sounds from the street. He meowed at the other cats. He was a one-man meowing band of sorts, an oddly fitting soundtrack for the apartment.

When the meowing did not stop, Esther became concerned that Bert was trying to tell her something so she took him to the vet. The vet said he probably just had some cat issues on his mind, perhaps a battle for territory with her other cats. Or that he was going batty in his old age. This gave her an idea.

Morty was no good with cats, this was well known by residents of 17. Still, he was the ceremonial caretaker of Esther’s cats when she was out of town. All that meant was that he got credit for their continued survival. In reality, a series of other neighbors had to stop by the actually feed and caretake, usually Emery, Benjamin, and Alby. Sometimes Lucy got drafted when they ran out of other options. Liseli had been on that list at one time but I become very deft at avoiding cat-related responsibilities.

When Esther brought Bert to Morty, the two immediately began to stare each other down. Bert's meow’s took on a much harsher tone and Morty grumbled unintelligibly in response. So Bert upped his game, taking a swipe at Morty’s arm. At that Morty got up and grumbled his way into the kitchen, where he proceeded to pour himself some milk. Bert followed, then followed Morty back to his seat and jealously watched him drink the milk, eyes growing wide. Leaving the empty milk glass on the table, Morty moved over to the couch, where Bert jumped into his lap and began to purr.

“I don’t even like Milk,” he muttered.

Esther was aghast. She liked to think of herself as a bit of a cat whisperer but there was just no accounting for Bert's behavior at the moment.

“You have a masochistic cat,” Morty replied to her look of amazement. “Deal with it.”