|Dear Cat…||Feb 25, ’07 11:42 PM
for Mel ‘s friends and Mel ‘s family
I know it must be stressful to turn 37 (in cat years), but really must you take your mid-life crisis out on me?
I do not think it is funny when you place your pooter in my face so that you can get into a better position with which to chase the mouse on the computer screen. It is not a real mouse. Catching it will not make you younger, it will only make me mad and less likely to buy you moist tuna viddles.
I do not think it is funny when I find you licking my toothbrush. I am not made of money, I CANNOT keep buying new toothbrushes. I love you. I do. But, not enough to share a toothbrush with you.
I do not think it is funny when sit on my bladder like a seventeen-ton sumo wrestler at five thirty am, OR when you then follow me to the bathroom, tripping me, and forcing yourself through the door to sit on my lap whilst I pee, OR when next you meow at me like you haven’t ate for nine weeks until I walk all the way to your food bowl and find it HALF! FULL! Sure I would like a bowl full of my favorite food with an endless bottom, but IT. IS. NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN. so KNOCK IT OFF!!!!
I do not think it is funny when you hide and mew at me. For two hours. Every farkin’ day. You may be laughing in the bushes while I am searching for you in closets, cabinets, the washing machine, the car trunk and under the house but I. am. not. laughing. Especially when I catch you running off of the porch after your latest desperate sounding meow. You have a cat door. USE IT.
I do not think it is funny finding bird feathers around the house. It might make you supremely satifisfied to watch me dry heave while I pick one or two feathers up every single day, OR when I spend an hour walking around the house looking under things and sniffing the air for rotting bird. But, it has to stop. I will be looking outside for your secret stash of bird feathers, and when I find them, well you see that big pond out there? You may just find yourself in some cement boots living at the bottom of it.
Over and Out,