From the Cats

Dear Readers,

We're sorry. The human who lives here (Becky?) is unable to communicate with you today. She is fixing our evening meal right now and we do hope she gets it right this time. Things have changed since the last time we visited this dump.

We have seen and taken note of the great many entries in this space and quite frankly, we are perplexed. What is it that she finds to talk about at such appalling great length? But never mind that now. We do not wish to appear overly curious. You needn't remind us that we are cats. Do you think we have not heard that EIGHT MILLION TIMES? Reasonably intelligent humans turn into babbling incoherent idiots when speaking to pets. "Kitty pie, pussycat, cutie honey." Good god.

Not every cat is dying of curiosity, you know. Just as you can't control who your relatives are, we have nothing to say about our family tree either. And I'm sorry to say there are some real lulus in ours.

This is our cousin Plath. What a goofball. This shot was taken right after he got his head out of the oven. A good dose of catnip would set him straight, but NOOOOOOOOOOOO, he has to wax poetic and write a lot of existential crap that no one gets. And our whole family gets blamed for being "aloof." Whatever.

This is Yomama, a complete and utter slave to fashion. Listens to hip hop night and day and with all the hair treatments she has experimented with, has lost all of hers. Again we get blamed for being vain.

This is Weezer, a cross dresser. Let's not even go there.

See? By comparison, my sister and I are all-American Kappa Kappa Gamma kitties, don't you agree? We're not stupid, though. We've been spayed, so you might think our instincts have been dulled and perhaps they have been. A little.

We like to have fun at night. Becky had the nerve to suggest that we sleep in one of the bedrooms she herself does not use. What an amusing idea! And how utterly preposterous! We do so like to wait until she drops off to sleep and then leap up on the bed for a dramatic surprise. Hilarity reigns after hours, I can tell you.

I personally like to stand on her chest with my claws flexing in and out. Evidently, she has one or two tender spots in that area because this awakens her without delay. I'm sorry to say it has rendered her treatment of me rather abrupt from time to time. I don't like to be pushed, reader. Do you? Or shoved? Or, and it hurts me to say it, ejected coldly and heartlessly ONTO THE FLOOR!

Here is my sister being EXTREMELY polite. I mean please. What would you think if someone offered you a pitiful toy such as this?

We do our best here.

And in our final humiliation, this -- THIS --is supposed to be our DINING AREA.

Does Becky think that cheap depiction of a moose is conducive to a pleasant repast? Again, please.

Also note the dual tray for our food (DRY ONLY). She doesn't know this obviously, but we freely eat out of each other's side. What does she think--that we observe such proprieties with a PLASTIC BOWL of water next to our food?

Sorry readers, but we just had to vent. We leave to go home with our regular caretaker, our owner, our REAL MOMMY, next weekend. May the time fly.

Auf wiedersehn,

With sincere regards,

Violet and Dahlia