I've been trying to figure out which political party claims the loyalty of our two cats. Don't judge. I'm a 59-year-old reporter who gets very tired after work, so I don't go out much anymore. After work, I go home and the cats and I stare at each other. Once everyone is satisfied that no one is going to anything cute, we all have a little something to eat and lie down for a while.

Here's the litter box scoop.

Maggie, our female cat, is multicolored, kinda fat and definitely the smarter of the pair. Her core issue seems to be obtaining petting at any price.

Jack, the smaller male, is black and gray. He sleeps maybe 16 hours a day, waking up only to run wildly through the house.

So, Jack, then, is the inner-city Democat who loafs around until it's time to start a riot, and Maggie is the slightly pudgy Republicat who is deeply enmeshed in consumer culture and is emotionally needy.

Maggie often takes Jack's food while he isn't looking, and sometimes when he is looking. Jack does not resist. Maybe he's one of those pansy pacifists. If he were a real cat, he'd protect his food. If he had some money and thumbs, he'd protect it with a kitty-sized AR-15.

Or maybe Maggie just believes in the redistribution of wealth. She's fat, so she needs more. Jack seems to agree. Maybe they're both Communicats.

Unless Maggie is the oppressor, the fat cat who holds Jack down, and keeps him from eating enough to realize his full potential. Maybe she's a Catitalist, a corporate cat. If that's true, I may have to build Jack a little community center in a bad part of town. Maggie could donate a very tiny amount of food to the center and demand we name it "The CatCo Community Center."

As far as I know, they're both scandal free. Although, there's no telling what's been covered up in the litter box. Let me tell you, when it comes to the litter box, you can't handle the truth. Better to use a tiny shovel.

Besides, when you find something horrible in (or next to) the litter box, you can rest assured that any cat will blame it on the cat who used it just before he or she went in. They all claim to have inherited a mess, but they never clean it up by themselves.

Neither one of them work. Maybe they're both welfare dependent. Then again, maybe they think they're the elected representatives of the house, and I'm supposed to work while they decide what kind of food they want me to buy them this week.

Of course, I've never voted for either one of them, and I'm pretty sure that if I tried to vote in a house election, I'd be asked for identification, probably a paw print. I don't have paws, so I'll never be able to vote. I guess the cats are in for life.

The other night, when my reporter wife was at the paper, working the late shift, I got the cats together (try that sometime), and we all sat down to watch President Donald Trump speak.

To encourage them to sit through the whole speech, I gave each of them a salmon-flavored treat. I didn't get a treat. Not everyone gets a treat in America, and if you complain, it's because you're entitled and weak and you want a safe space and a participation trophy and food.

I figured the cats' reactions to Trump would give me a hint about their political leanings.

Didn't work. They just went to sleep about 10 minutes in.

I still don't know what political party our cats belong to, but after that night, I'm pretty sure they went to college.

To find out more about Marc Munroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com Dion's most recent book, "King of The World on $14 an Hour," is available on Nook and Kindle.

 Courtesy of Marc Dion