Last night, I had a strange dream.

A cat strolled into my bedroom, and sat down on the floor.

It stared at me.

“Hey, Cat,” I said.

“Meow,” the cat answered. “Azzo’s getting meowrried.”

I did a doubletake.

“Whoa. Azzo’s getting meowrried? And you talk?”

“I talk. I just don’t feel like talking meowch.” The cat stretched. “Ouch. Hurts. You got some miaowlk? I’m hungry. My miaowmmy ran out of milk.”

“Who’s your miaommy?”

“Guess who.”

“You’re a cryptic cat, Cat.”

“Meow.”

“How do you know Azzo’s getting meowrried?”

“I read it in the miaowlk curds.”

“I thought you’re supposed to read tealeaves.”

“I’m a cat. I read miaowlk curds,” the cat snorted.

And then I woke up.