Monday, February 12, 2007

An Open Letter to My Cat....

Dear Coperni-Kitty,

It's been a while since we've danced this dance on my blog. Last fall was a pretty rough time for me, and as a result it was a rough time for you. I'm not one of those psychos who goes around beating her cat when she's pissed -- you know that. However, I am one of those psychos who goes around running to her parents' house when things get unlivable, and as a result, your life became unlivable due to two words: Three Dogs.

Big Brother is away in Afghanistan right now, and his dog Kali has taken up residence at The Ranch. Now, Coperni-Kitty, you and I both know that there is a boundless amount of love in my heart for Kali. She is truly a wonderful dog; however, we both know that she would be much more pleasurable to spend time with if she was on Ritalin. I was sedated for most of my stay at The Ranch, and let me tell you, Kitty, that sedation is heaven. I'll also confide that it entered my head more than once -- more than fifty times, even -- that I might spare the world of her hyper-activity for an afternoon by splitting a dose of Clonapin between myself and her.

Following Christmas break, I was ready to face the world once more. However, I had some things to work with at home. So, to save you hours of grievous time spent in a kennel strapped in to the back seat of a Saturn Vue, I decided to leave you behind for an additional month.

I have to apologize.

It seems that Kali, in her great love for all things in existence, has a great love for you as well. She would love nothing more than to grip you in her paws, hold you down on the floor, and lick you within an inch of your life.

You tend to think that this game is about as much fun as that time I dressed you up like a mummified Goddess and took pictures of you in the arms of my then-five year old nephew. Us human-folk refer to that as having you fixed. I'm sorry for laughing at you while you had that lampshade on your head, and I admit now that I kept in on you for three days longer than I should have because you were just so damn funny stalking around getting caught on everything in sight.

Because of Kali's exuberance in showing her love to you, you decided that your time was best spent in the top of my bunk bed, cowering in a corner as if leaches were waiting to suck the very life out of you.

Well, Coperni-Kitty, I guess it gets lonely up there in the top bunk after two months, and in your weeks since returning to the city, it's like you've become a new cat. You've discovered the art of purring. You've also become cuddly, which is the reason I got you in the first place. Every night, you cuddle up against me and drift off into kitty-licious sleep. Sorry for all the thrashing about: It's what I do when I sleep.

You've also become prone to trying to sit in my lap. You don't always look very happy to be there; quite the opposite. Frequently you sit on my lap, eyes squinted and ears pinned, looking your best like you're trying to enjoy the time being social. I'm sure some day you'll get this whole afection thing down. For now I'm just happy you're trying.

And so, Dear Copernicus, I leave you with this: When I was living in the Depths of Hell, feeding you orange water from its Hellish pipes and subjecting you to many a two a.m. phone call to the police because of all the schizophrenice neighbors, this is what I had envisioned in getting a cat. Someone to commiserate with, someone to chase the toy I lovingly crocheted around in circles, someone to keep me company at night.

It may not be perfect, and we've had some rocky times (Sorry again for that time I turned around in the car and threatened to have you thrown from the moving vehicle beneath the wheels of an oncoming bus) but here we are. I've started liking you. You've started tolerating me.

It's wonderful



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Blogger David said...

What I want to know is, does the cat write back to you? I mean, writing a thousand+ word letter to your cat is one thing, but having it write back...that would be too cool! Unless it said things like "I"m the master, would you frigging figure that out, and start doing my bidding?" Then it would be funny, rather than cool.

10:28 a.m.  

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