Dear Large Human Female,
I’ve been living in this house for about 5 years now, and I’ve tried mighty hard to train you to my way of living, but you just don’t seem to be catching on. You seem really nice and all, but you’re a little slow on the up-take, and it seems I’m going to have to put the dots real close together for you, and tell you what I need.
The smaller females in the household are pleasant enough, but they are so far beneath me that it is all I can do to acknowledge their presence. You are clearly the one in charge of that big, white cold thingy in the kitchen where The Most Wonderous Treasures of All are kept. When they start doling out that glorious, spectacular, greatest substance ever known you call “tuna”, then I’ll give them a glance. But for now, baby, you’re it.
You seem to be fond of that large, male human in the house, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I’ve never seen him kill anything small and defenseless and then bring it straight to you. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t lick your face, or drool on you and butt his head into yours. When you are at the kitchen table staring at a large pieces of paper with black squiggles on it, he never sees it as the golden opportunity that it is to declare his love by coming over and laying down on it. (I figure you’re just sitting and staring at one spot, why not give you something lovely to look at?) Sure, he does give off the BTUs at an incredible rate, and I can see that he’s kind of nice to curl up beside, but he never purrs, so how do you know he likes you?
Nobody appreciates a good sleep like I do, and you seem to value it as well, but for some reason you do most of yours at night. Why do you do that? The middle of the day is the optimum time to sleep, night-time is party time; that’s when all of the really interesting stuff happens. A ping-pong ball rolling around in the bathtub makes a considerably more satisfying noise at 3:00 a.m. than it does during the day. Judging by your reaction to my little discovery, you do not agree.
And plus, I have to stay up all night to protect the rest of you, who are sleeping, against all sorts of dangerous intruders. Imagine what would happen if that friggin’ raccoon, who comes into the yard every night, did so and I didn’t tell you??? You seem to be wholly uncaring about this menacing terror to your security, but that does not stop me from alerting you night after night. It’s for your own good, you know. I do not appreciate being shaolin-soccer kicked off the bed for my efforts. And that one time, that another cat walked right under your bedroom window??? Thank God you had me there to protect you, or who knows what might have happened. You’re welcome.
I’ve tried mightily to tell you about the fabulous shredding qualities of claws, because you really should get some, but you appear to not appreciate my efforts. Those large, soft things you sit on seem very nice, but couldn’t they also be put to a good use as a scratching post? Why not both? I think the end of those things look much better after a good scratching.
That box you get into every day where the water comes pouring down on you? What’s up with that? That is my idea of a torture chamber. Every day, as you walk towards it, I try to stop you by gently tapping the last part of you to go by me, to alert you to the dangers that lie within. (Okay, so occasionally my claws get the better of me and I cannot help but sink one or two into that soft flesh, but really, what’s it going to take?) You are really going to have to stop going in there, you look just awful when you come out.
Look, I appreciate the whole “roof over my head, food in the dish” deal, and other than that trip once a year to the place where they stick things up my bum and poke me with very sharp objects, I like it here a lot. In fact, you’ve done a pretty good job of setting me up very nicely, and I’m grateful. So, if we could just clear up these few things, it would be kitty paradise here, and I’d be really, really happy. If I could just figure out how to get at that tuna all by myself.
Love,
Toby.
I’ve been living in this house for about 5 years now, and I’ve tried mighty hard to train you to my way of living, but you just don’t seem to be catching on. You seem really nice and all, but you’re a little slow on the up-take, and it seems I’m going to have to put the dots real close together for you, and tell you what I need.
The smaller females in the household are pleasant enough, but they are so far beneath me that it is all I can do to acknowledge their presence. You are clearly the one in charge of that big, white cold thingy in the kitchen where The Most Wonderous Treasures of All are kept. When they start doling out that glorious, spectacular, greatest substance ever known you call “tuna”, then I’ll give them a glance. But for now, baby, you’re it.
You seem to be fond of that large, male human in the house, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I’ve never seen him kill anything small and defenseless and then bring it straight to you. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t lick your face, or drool on you and butt his head into yours. When you are at the kitchen table staring at a large pieces of paper with black squiggles on it, he never sees it as the golden opportunity that it is to declare his love by coming over and laying down on it. (I figure you’re just sitting and staring at one spot, why not give you something lovely to look at?) Sure, he does give off the BTUs at an incredible rate, and I can see that he’s kind of nice to curl up beside, but he never purrs, so how do you know he likes you?
Nobody appreciates a good sleep like I do, and you seem to value it as well, but for some reason you do most of yours at night. Why do you do that? The middle of the day is the optimum time to sleep, night-time is party time; that’s when all of the really interesting stuff happens. A ping-pong ball rolling around in the bathtub makes a considerably more satisfying noise at 3:00 a.m. than it does during the day. Judging by your reaction to my little discovery, you do not agree.
And plus, I have to stay up all night to protect the rest of you, who are sleeping, against all sorts of dangerous intruders. Imagine what would happen if that friggin’ raccoon, who comes into the yard every night, did so and I didn’t tell you??? You seem to be wholly uncaring about this menacing terror to your security, but that does not stop me from alerting you night after night. It’s for your own good, you know. I do not appreciate being shaolin-soccer kicked off the bed for my efforts. And that one time, that another cat walked right under your bedroom window??? Thank God you had me there to protect you, or who knows what might have happened. You’re welcome.
I’ve tried mightily to tell you about the fabulous shredding qualities of claws, because you really should get some, but you appear to not appreciate my efforts. Those large, soft things you sit on seem very nice, but couldn’t they also be put to a good use as a scratching post? Why not both? I think the end of those things look much better after a good scratching.
That box you get into every day where the water comes pouring down on you? What’s up with that? That is my idea of a torture chamber. Every day, as you walk towards it, I try to stop you by gently tapping the last part of you to go by me, to alert you to the dangers that lie within. (Okay, so occasionally my claws get the better of me and I cannot help but sink one or two into that soft flesh, but really, what’s it going to take?) You are really going to have to stop going in there, you look just awful when you come out.
Look, I appreciate the whole “roof over my head, food in the dish” deal, and other than that trip once a year to the place where they stick things up my bum and poke me with very sharp objects, I like it here a lot. In fact, you’ve done a pretty good job of setting me up very nicely, and I’m grateful. So, if we could just clear up these few things, it would be kitty paradise here, and I’d be really, really happy. If I could just figure out how to get at that tuna all by myself.
Love,
Toby.
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