A/N: This is my entry for the Chit Chat on Author's Corner "Dog Days of Summer Challenge." (Check out the forum, if you haven't already!) I chose Spencer Reid for my character with a pet named Archimedes; I was assigned a Pet Type: Cat-Siamese.

In this story, Archimedes chats with an unknown friend about his "dad," Spencer Reid.

It is slash, but very mild; there's a little bit of bad language, but no f-bombs.

Please review, it's hot around here!

Hugs,

Seds

Well, hi there. Archimedes here; I'm a cat, apparently. At least that's what Dad told me once, although he's never brought it up again, and I fail to see much difference between him and me, apart from a few superficial physical characteristics. Other people make references to it all the time, though. I can't tell you how many times I've heard stupid things like, oh, look, you have a kitty, and uh, Spencer?-I'm allergic to cats, and hey, man, you didn't tell me you have a cat.

Whatever. As long as I get food, a clean litter box, and nobody messes with my schedule-wake up, eat, sleep four hours, eat, clean myself, sleep six hours, eat, etc.-I really don't care what people think.

Yeah, we have a pretty good life together, me and my dad. He's gone a lot, but when he is, the lady next door comes and feeds me and scratches behind my ears-she's aces-and he leaves the curtains open so I can watch that idiot blue jay and Mac, the psychotic squirrel, battle for the tree limb. So, it's not too bad, not bad at all, really. I have lots of toys and a bed of my own, not that I use it, but it was nice of Dad to give me a little space in case I need some "me" time.

And, when Dad's home, it's great. I let him hold me on his lap while he watches the History Channel, and I get to lap up his cereal-milk while he takes a shower, and at night, I sleep on him. He's a little bony, but the warmth makes up for it, plus, I'm right there to make sure he wakes up to feed me on time. (Dad can be a little lazy in the morning, I've noticed.)

Yeah, things are pretty good all the way around, here in apartment 3-G. I wouldn't change a thing, you know? Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for my bookshelf nap, right between Plato's Republic and some Russian novel that Dad says isn't all that interesting.

I'll talk to you later.

Two weeks pass.

Hi again, it's me. Listen, let me ask you something-what does it mean when somebody starts having another somebody come over and spend a whole evening on the couch with him? Kissing? That's what Dad's been doing lately with this guy, I think his name is Morgan, and frankly, I'm getting sick of it.

It's really hard to curl up in my dad's lap when Morgan's got his hands all over him (what's the deal with that, anyway?); plus, Dad gets all flustered and weird about me shedding on him and he kind of drops the ball when it comes to preparing my meals on time, as if he had something more important on his mind.

As if.

No, I don't like it, and I'm tempted to take drastic measures, like hissing at Morgan, or even hocking up a hairball on his shoes, but I'm sure Dad will come to his senses pretty soon. I'm a patient kind of guy, plus hairball-hocking really eats into my nap time, so we'll just have to see what happens.

Okay, time for my top-of-the-washing-machine nap, I'll see you later, take care.

Three more weeks pass.

Okay, hi, it's me again. Sorry if I sound a little scattered today, but things have been in an uproar around here lately, and I want to tell you, I don't like it one bit. Dad's been acting goofier than ever, and this Morgan character seems to be underfoot all the time. He's even taken to sleeping over! Hmph.

And, when he does, Dad shuts the door to the bedroom and I can hear them in there wrestling or something-they sure are noisy-and I have to resort to meowing like a common alley cat and pitching a fit until Dad gives up and lets me in. It's just ridiculous, what do I care what they do in there, I just want to curl up on the bed and go to sleep. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into Dad, it's not like him to treat me with such disrespect.

I totally blame Morgan.

Although... Actually, Morgan's turned out to be kind of okay. He pets me and lets me sit on the bag he started bringing with him (it has extra clothes in it), and, sometimes, he even gets up and feeds me before Dad wakes up, saying Dad needs his sleep because he kept him up too late. That's kind of nice, I like that he takes care of my Daddy.

In fact, I wouldn't even mind having him around, but sometimes he brings that damn mongrel, Clooney, with him. What a big, slobbery idiot. No respect. He ate my cat toy! I can barely tolerate him on a good day, and then he has to go and do something moronic like that. I tried to tell Dad to kick him out, but he doesn't listen. Nooo, he just looks at Morgan all gooey-eyed and tells me to be nice. Nice, huh? I'll show that mutt "nice" one of these days, but right now, I really need to take my nap on the top shelf of Dad's closet. Whoa, it's getting crowded in here, what the hell? Damn it, more of Morgan's stuff seems to crop up around here every day.

Yeah, I miss the old days when it was just Dad and me. But, I have to say, there's something to be said for having Morgan around... Dad's so damn happy. I like that, I really do. When Dad's happy, he laughs a lot more, and I notice him singing to himself. He also pets me a lot and gives me extra treats, so I suppose it's a pretty good deal all the way around.

Except for the damn dog.

Three months pass.

(yawn) Hmm. Dad sent Morgan home last night, miracle of miracles. Said they weren't supposed to see each other before the "big day," whatever the heck that's supposed to mean. It's kind of weird, having this whole big bed just to ourselves again, I'm surprised Dad got any sleep at all, not that he got much. He's awfully excited about something. Oh, well, I'll just go back to sleep until it's time for breakfast, and-

Freakin' hell.

What the... Really? Is that the door-dinger thing? Who could that be, the sun hasn't even been up that long... Wow, low and behold, Dad's up, too. It's amazing, he doesn't usually see the light of day before eight o'clock on a Saturday, but it's okay, because now he has to feed me. Wake up, feed the cat, that's the rule.

But... Wait, where's he going?

Dad?

I'm over here, Dad, right by the food bowl. See? See? Look, THE FOOD BOWL'S EMPTY, for God's sake. It's been empty for A REALLY LONG TIME, and-what the heck? Is someone coming in the house? DAD! LOOK AT THE DAMN FOOD BOWL, Dad, I-oh, damn it. A female person is coming in here, that hardly ever happens. And, oh, man, is she loud. She's got a suit thingie slung over her shoulder for some reason, and she's giving it to Dad. Wait a minute, what's she doing, is she crying? But, Dad's laughing. I don't get it.

Dad! Remember the FOOD BOWL, oh, hell, he's gone back to the bedroom. With her. I've seen her before, she has yellow hair, although once I saw her and it was red, how the heck does that happen. Wait a minute-oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, not the cat carrier! No, Dad, I HAVEN'T BEEN FED YET-oh.

Oh, good, yum, he's getting the food. Maybe if I curl around his legs, he'll hurry up. Oops, sorry, Daddy, heh, didn't mean to trip you. Gosh, it's funny seeing you on the floor like that. Looks like you might have hurt something. You okay? Here, let me rub my face on your nose, that'll make you feel better.

Ahhh... yes, Friskies, the good stuff. I'm so glad we got off that Science Diet kick, man, is that shit bad. Mm-mm, this is nice and crunchy. Yum, yum, yum. That's better, now I feel great! All I have to do is clean up, lick, lick, lick, then I can hop up on the mantle and take a little snooze until lunch.

Wait a minute, that damn carrier's still on the table, what's the deal, Dad? That thing never comes out unless he's taking me to that bad place where they jab me with that ouch-y thing-Dad says it's my "vaccination," and that it's good for me, but I don't see how. Well, he seems to have forgotten about the carrier, so I will too, although I really wonder what he and the female are doing. They're in his bedroom again, maybe I better go see.

Oh! Wow, Dad looks nice. He's got that fancy suit on, hmm. The female-he calls her "Penelope"-is putting a black piece of cloth around his neck and making it into a kind of bow. Dad? Hey, Dad, what're you doing, huh? Getting ready for a party? I better rub around on his legs a little to remind him that I'm here. Ah, that's the ticket.

Oh, for heaven's sake, now the woman is fussing at me, just because I got a little bit of white cat hair on Dad's black pants. Oh, come on, it's not that big a deal, is it? Really? Getting the old lint roller out, are we? Well, that's okay, I'll just jump up on the bed and shake some off on his jacket, there, much better, much more interesting with a little color to liven things up.

Gakk! Dad! Put me down, what'd you pick me up for, I can walk! Oh, no, not the carrier! Noooo... Oh, crap. This sucks. My head's bobbing around like crazy, dang it! Dad! I don't want to go to the bad place, I-huh. This isn't our car. And, we're not going in that direction either, hmm. Someplace new? And what's-her-name's driving us? That's weird, very, very weird. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE AND I DON'T LIKE IT. Come on, Dad, let's go home, I want to sleep, I only got, like, nineteen hours yesterday, this isn't fair.

Whoa. What is this place? Looks like a big fancy house, with pretty colored windows and rows and rows of benches. And, dang, there's a lot of people here, and they're all dressed up. I know some of them. And-hey, there's Morgan! Hi, Morgan! How funny, he's wearing the same kind of black suit that Dad's wearing. He's way down there at the end of the aisle, and-oh, shit.

Clooney.

Clooney's here, too? Oh, my God. What the heck is going on? Dad! Dad, I don't like this one bit, there's too many people-who's that guy standing between Daddy and Morgan? He's got a book and he's reading something out of it, something about "when two hearts beat as one" and "spending your lives together," and, "in sickness and in health, blah, blah, blah," and-oh, weird, Daddy's got a ring. He's putting it on Morgan's finger. Now, Morgan's putting a ring on Dad's finger. Now they're kissing! Aw, that's cute, I like it when they kiss, except that it usually means they're going to shut me out of the bedroom.

Wow, everyone's clapping! Dad and Morgan are smiling bigger than I've ever seen them smile, but, somehow, Daddy's crying at the same time. Oh, no, hug him, Morgan, please, please, please-please make him stop crying. Oh, hell, now Morgan's crying, too! What the HECK.

GAKKK! Now where are we going? Clooney's going too, oh, give me a break, I hate him. Dad, this isn't our car. This isn't our car, Dad. This isn't the way home! What the... Oh, good lord, this is taking forever, I might as well sleep. Get away from me, Clooney, don't make me hiss at you. If I wasn't in this damn box, I'd teach you a thing or two. Hmm. Well, he's busy looking out the window like an idiot, maybe I can catch a few z's in peace.

Mmm, yes, nap time!

One year later.

Wow, sorry I sort of fell off the face of the earth there, but, boy, my life's been one crazy upheaval after another. The good news is, it looks like everything's finally under control again. Dad must have gotten tired of our old place, because after being in a house by the ocean for a few days, we went over to Morgan's, and we've been there ever since. Clooney and I eventually worked things out, and now he definitely knows who's in charge. I notice those scratches on his nose have finally healed, heh.

Daddy and Morgan sleep in the same bed every single night now, and except for when they shoo me out so they can wrestle, I'm okay with that. In fact, Morgan's pretty comfy to sleep on, though Dad's still the best, most of the time.

In fact, everything seems to have settled down nicely. Dad spends a lot of time talking on the phone-somebody named "Adoption Agency"-and, Morgan's been painting the extra room some kind of pink color. They're really funny, it's like they're expecting a miniature person to come for a visit. They even put a really small bed in there with bars all around it like a tiny jail; looks crazy, but, man, is it comfy. I could totally get used to that, although Dad says it's not for me, yeah, right.

I'm finally back to getting my full twenty-two hours of sleep per day.

Yep, everything's back to normal at last, just the way I like it.

I wouldn't change a thing.