Letter to my cat, the Grinch

Dear Grinch kitty,

Your recent behavior has put you in quite the compromised position. You’ve become blog fodder, my friend. Not a good place to be. I know you read this because while I’m writing, you’re head butting the screen and pacing back and forth across the keyboard. (Thanks for standing on the backspace button by the way…I didn’t need that paragraph.)

There are certain issues that need to be addressed if you want to remain a cat and not, say, a luxurious pair of slippers. I’m giving you fair warning here because you are not totally evil–you are good about not shredding the kid to ribbons when she tries to put a tiara on you, and you always use your kitty box. Thanks for that. I think you just need a little reminder that you do not run the show around here. I do.

First off, I’d like to address your total lack of holiday spirit. You refused to wear the Santa hat I bought for you, and now you have completely destroyed my poinsettia plant. First, I notice little kitty teeth marks in the leaves. Next, there’s huge chunks of the plant missing. Finally, you knocked the whole damn thing off the mantle!



What the fuck, man?

If that wasn’t enough, just to be a total freaking douche, you ralphed up what was left of the leaves on my dining room table, my kitchen floor, my kitchen counter, and in my hallway (where I stepped in it, all cold and slimy).

After calling poison control, I learned that unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, poinsettia is not poisonous. You can put ketchup on it and eat the shit and nothing will happen to you. Next time, I’m spraying the leaves with anti-freeze.

These are only some of your recent behaviors that I am finding problematic. This is your final warning before the following consequences will be carried out:

1. Say goodbye to the Iams. If you continue on your current tack, I’m downgrading you to Ghetto Kitty. I think it’s made of mouse assholes.

2. This year, if you eat another piece of Christmas ribbon and require yet another $5,000 surgery, you can forget it. I won’t be saving your sorry fat ass a second time. Find a rehab program for your ribbon addiction or suffer and die.

3. I’m telling the cat out on the porch that you scream at at 2am that you’re really a big pansy who’s scared to go outside. Even though you may scream a good game, you’re really never going to go out there and kick his ass. I’ll also tell him that you cuddle with the dog.

I thought I’d get all this out into the open before we put up the Christmas tree as I’m certain you had an evil plan for that as well. I trust that since we’re all clear on things now that it will not go the way of the poinsettia.

I’m looking forward to enjoying the holidays without any further kitty Grinchery.



PS: For the love of all that is decent in this world, please stop coming to show me your butt when I’m in Downward Dog pose. Actually, quit showing me your butt full stop.

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