from my cat to me

(on the occasion of changing his litter brand)

Photo by Marco Biondi on Unsplash

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing to you, a cat at the end of his yarn, to express the depths of my outrage. It wasn’t enough that you changed my food, and began using a measuring scoop to drop a distressingly meager portion of food into the bowl that used to be kept so delightfully full…all the while commenting, in a disrespectfully amused tone, on the way my lower belly swings when I trot, and how I should really get more exercise in addition to this “diet.” I would get more exercise if you let me outside more often, but we’ll get to that. Now you really have gone too far. A cat can only tolerate so much abuse.

Remember last month when I caught that mouse that had been gnawing loudly and scaring your kitten at night? Alright, so I didn’t ACTUALLY kill it (ew!) but I DEFINITELY wore it out. And I have been sleeping with her every night, curled up all sweet and cuddly, just so she won’t be scared. I patrol the house every single night so the rodents understand their place in the hierarchy of things and stay respectfully out of sight and away from your pantry. And how do you thank me? By buying me recycled paper pellet cat “litter.”

“It’s really so much better,” you say, in that wheedling voice you use when begging me not to go on a rampage and poop upstairs again, “this litter won’t stick to your paws and make a mess on the floor. It’ll be so much cleaner,” you say, as if that’s not missing the point entirely.

As a young kitten I was trained to use litter. Real, sand-like, clumping litter, the same as every other civilized cat. And I fully intended to use said litter until my dying day (or as close to it as I could manage. I’m a cat, not a saint, and I refuse to martyr myself for your convenience). Kindly keep me out of your New Year’s Resolution to be more planet-friendly. If you let me outside more often I would gladly save on litter by using the grass, but do you care when I hear the song of my people calling me out into the wilds? All you care about is that I am careful not to knock over your pots of captive plants while prowling my windowsill. If you prefer, I could start using those for my business again. (Don’t think I didn’t notice you disappeared the banana tree right after discovering that I had been helping out by reducing our collective waste output and fertilizing the tree at the same time. It isn’t my fault the tree couldn’t handle such high grade, fresh-from-the-source fertilizer.)

In short, I deserve better. The very least you could have done was consult me before making such a life-altering decision. Now please excuse me while I go tear up the carpet and jump out at you from around corners. After that I will take a long nap and think about things. I request that you do not disturb me during this reverie. Not to be crude, but such a disturbance (from you or the Little People) may have a negative effect on my conclusion. If you are very sweet to me, and give me an extra treat or two before bed (not those treats, the good stuff in the can, thank you), I might actually use the box despite it’s uncomfortably scrunchy and rattly (but oh so “green”) pellets.

Sincerely,

He Who You Persist In Calling “Fuzzy Face”