Dear Cat

Hysterical. I’m trying to remember if I wrote this myself while drunk. It’s all true.

Dear Cat,
I have some issues with you right now that I would like to hash out. And now is as good a time as any with you laying over my arms while I am trying to type on the computer. You don’t even look comfortable and you can’t breathe lying like that with your butt higher up than your head but your brain is the size of a walnut so I will forgive you.
First of all, the litterbox. Is it your goal to poop on the rim of the box? Because if it is, bravo! Mission accomplished, you can stop now. You have proved your point. It is not funny anymore, and I have run out of sticks in the yard to clean it off with. The box is big enough, and you are still small, so don’t even go there.

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