Dear Humans and other residents of the house.
You are a weird lot. In my nine years, as a cat, that has graced you with my marvellous presence, I have come to the conclusion that you humans are strange, and you get stranger by the day, and I don’t think I will ever figure out how your minds work, and frankly am not sure I want to.
I thought I would give you a few pointers, express a few of my thoughts, as it is my birthday today.
- I don’t like visits to the vets. I know you insist that they are good for me, and apparently I am part of some marvellous research project into finding a cure for FiP, but I hate it, and I would really prefer it if you gave me at least a week’s notice, so I can run away and hide, and avoid going.
- I hate having my fur brushed, but don’t like having matted/tuggy/burr filled fur. Go figure out how to deal with that one. I also don’t like flea treatments, and I can recognise the box they come in.
- The small humans are annoying, I have never really got over them arriving in the house, WHY on earth did you think that you needed any more company than me? Was I not enough for you? When do they leave to live elsewhere? Can you arrange it soon? Ok, I do admit that I like the smallest human a teeny bit, because he feeds me when I am not supposed to be eating, and brings me my toys, and chases Jasper around the house, but he could live elsewhere and come and visit, and I would be happy
- On that note, when I ask for food, it is because I am HUNGRY, bored, hot, cold, wet, fed up, annoyed at Jasper, or the small humans, or just got out of my basket on the wrong side, or all of the above… I don’t think it is unreasonable of me to demand food at all hours of the day and night, and I don’t understand why you complain when I wake you at 5am demanding my breakfast.
- While I am at it, we need to talk about my food, I like cat food, but it gets boring. Perhaps we can chat about you sharing more of your food with me? I do like a nice Thai green curry you know…
- The bed, the human bed, usually with lovely, soft, mostly white bedding. It is mine, and I am gracious enough to share it with you humans. Please can you tell him, who chases me off it every night, to stop it, or I may be forced to do “very bad things” on his pillow or in his shoes.
- Dear Jasper, you are annoying, you eat all my food, if I don’t get there fast enough, and frankly I get jealous when the humans go on about how cute and friendly you are. Pah, they don’t know you are mouse hunting, bin foraging, dove killing thug cat, who sneaks next door, to eat their dog’s food. I won’t tell them, if you promise to stop trying to sniff my bum, at every opportunity, and share your food with me. I have resigned myself to the fact that you are staying, don’t think I will ever like you or be your friend, but I will tolerate you, if you stick to my rules, and maybe try being less cute and friendly. Humans respond better, if you treat them mean. I know this, from experience.
- Dear moths, that fly around the bathroom at night, you taste horrible, when I catch you, chew you, then spit you out, all over the bathroom floor, but I cannot resist chasing you. What strange thing are you, to bewitch me the way you do?
- Dear next door’s dog. You are stupid, you cannot climb trees or fences, and you will never catch me, so stop trying. You also look very stupid trying to dig holes all day.
- Dear fish, in the weird see through box, in the kitchen. One day, I will get you, you can stop simpering and floating about looking smug. You will be my dinner, one day….
- Dear Postman. Stop trying to pet me and talk to me. I don’t like you. I don’t really like anyone.
- Dear Eric Clapton. Thank you for writing a song for me. I don’t suppose you want a rather beautiful, chocolate coloured half Persian, to come on tour with you, and to sit with you when you sing MY song live, do you?
That’s about it for now, I am sure I can think of more, but I can hear a human opening a can of tuna in the kitchen, so I had better go….Love from Layla (oh, and by the way, I know you are going away on holiday, and leaving me, and I don’t care how nice the cat sitter is, I will still sulk for at least a week, when you get back, and will leave fur-balls in places you least expect them, to show my displeasure)
Happy Birthday Layla, you grumpy, but beautiful cat. When they told me, all those years ago, that you would probably die, the day we took you home from the vet, as a kitten, I had no idea what a tough cookie you actually were. Who knew you would prove them all wrong. No wonder the vet calls you his miracle cat! 🙂