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Sunday, February 26, 2006
Open Letters
Dear Elizabeth:
While I must say that I really do appreciate your special brand of feline affection, with all the textbook purring and paw-patting and lap-snuggling you dish out, I must ask: was it truly necessary to suspend yourself in mid-air from your two claws, dug into the tender flesh of the upper inner part of my left arm, when I went to put you down the other night? The bruises look hideous, and feel worse. I'm just wondering.
P.S. I'm sorry I yelled "You beast!!" at you. I didn't really mean it. It was just... the pain. You understand.
**********************
Dear Mary:
You are the overachiever of cats, I must say. Litter-trained from day one, never using the closet instead except for those early horrible days when you were in heat, perfect blend of condescending affection and haughty back-turning, good gopher-catcher (back when you were allowed outside, that is), never running onto the highway to break all our hearts. Thank you for all of these. However. When you've used the litterbox, is it really necessary to attempt to bury your good deed by scratching and clawing at every neighboring resonating surface? It's surprising how loud your claws can be against a wooden cabinet at 3:30 a.m., it really is. And the litter in the box truly is the only thing that's going to actually move.*
Please think on this.
Love,
the humans who sleep in the room next to your litter-room
*Yes, I know the toilet paper moves too. We're trying to forget that, though, aren't we?
***********************
To the person with the drooping handlebar mustache:
Thanks so much for ruining our dinner last night. It's really no fun to go to a restaurant and spend $50 for dinner if we're going to have, you know, peace and quiet for the whole 45 minutes or so that we're there. Who wants that? Everyone who dines out really wants a loud-mouthed, intoxicated, swaggering jerk to go around to nearly every table, pummeling strangers' shoulders, telling raucous jokes in a voice that would shatter concrete. You certainly took care of this for us, and for everyone else as well. Great job.
P.S. No more beer for you.
P.P.S. You are so not funny.
Comments
Hee, hee. LeeLoo scratches at everything BUT the cat sand...She never covers her stuff. Plus, she always has something dangling off her foot or tail when she jumps out. She doesn't even clean it off and I thought cats were supposed to be like, obssessively clean!
I will never, ever understand why someone goes to a family restaurant to get drunk. Furthermore, it is illegal for the bartender/server to allow someone to become so intoxicated that they are disrupting other customers. That doesn't say much for the establishment you've visited for dinner.
Posted by: jenn at February 26, 2006 03:44 PM
Oh, and handlebar mustaches are so seventies...send that guy a memo. (I'm still trying to make my brothers realize that unless they are going to grow a full beard they should shave because I can't stand looking at goatees...But that's just me ;-))
Posted by: jenn at February 26, 2006 03:46 PM
YOU ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF COMIC GENIUS. :)
Posted by: Kristen at February 28, 2006 05:17 AM
