Dear Pussy Cat,
I understand that our relationship has changed through the years and that you are now in charge. Fine! I am willing to abide by all your rules, but I draw the line at using the litter box.
And in regard to the litter box, I would like to bring a relatively minor matter to your attention. Must you be so passionate about cleaning it? Can you be a tad more precise and stop throwing the #@%^* * litter all over the floor? Walking barefoot has become a health hazard for anyone with toes (me) and that crunchy sound can be annoying.
I also think you should share some of the household expenses. Especially when it comes to food. I understand that my food is your food and your food is your food but it seems a little unfair.
And here are some of my other complaints:
Please keep your little pink nose out of any and all cups of tea I may leave momentarily unattended. BTW, I understand that the water in my plastic glass tastes a million gezillon times better than the water in your drinking bowl even though they are both filled from the same tap.
Which brings me to my next complaint. Stop jumping onto the kitchen table. I admit that getting from floor to table in one leap is an admirable feat but it can be dangerous to your health — and mine if we should connect.
I know you resent my speaking on the phone because it uses time better spent scratching your back. Doing horizontal spins on the floor is adorable and I admit it is attention getting, but racing around and killing toy mice just doesn’t work any more. Ditto the blood curdling meows that accompany the “massacre.”
As for sleeping arrangements, we each have a bed. You can sleep in mine, but I can’t fit into yours. I understand that my huge size is not only gross but an embarrassment as well and takes a lot of explaining when your friends come over. I would like to point out however, that none of your friends ever come over and you do not go out. By choice I may add.
Finally, quit leaping on to my desk while I’m working and sitting down in front of the computer with that pleased pussy cat look on your face. And tip toeing on the keyboard is disconcerting to say the least, while hiding behind the monitor, though adorable, is distracting.
I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know how sensitive you are. So to clarify the above, please understand that you are more important to me than any of the minor inconveniences mentioned and I will gladly pay for your food, share tea and water as well as the kitchen table and I will take phone calls only when you’re asleep in a remote part of the house, i.e. under my bed or the living room couch. And I will deal with those times when you disappear completely and refuse to surface despite endless cajoling and hysterical pleading on my part.
But as for the litter box – okay, I promise to give it a little more thought.
Lovingly yours,
Me
©HARRIET POSNAK LESSER 2015
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Harriet Posnak Lesser is an award-winning journalist and social satirist whose articles have appeared in Long Island’s The South Shore Record and Nassau Herald, The New York Times, Cracked Magazine and others.