Friday, November 9, 2012

In case you ever took me seriously, I now present you with a letter to my cats

 Dear Cats,

I really wish you would at least contribute to the rent. Toronto is an expensive city to live in and we could use the help. Remember when all of you had dental surgery a few years ago? It cost about a billion dollars and you've never even given us a dime. Nothing, you give us nothing.

We took you all in when had nothing but the cold streets of Toronto to stand on. Pomegranate, you were the first one to arrive. Content to live as the only cat, you are now forced to suffer Hille's total, stalker-like obsession. I know its annoying but it's not like you have any other concerns (see above, re: rent). Hille, my dear sweet beast of a cat, Pomegranate is not your mother. Now quit trying to nurse from him and come sit on my feet. They're cold, and since you don't pay rent you could at the very least make us of your girth to warm them up.

Lucy, I don't even know where to start. If you're not locked in a closet, or sleeping in the mittens box, or drinking from my @!#*ing water glass again, you're probably sneaking out of the house to organize a union or bet on horses. I'd probably care less about your goings on except for the fact that you love Matt more than you love me and declare your preferences loudly on the couch while we are trying to watch Sons of Anarchy. For Pete's sake I know he's awesome. Now quiet down, Gemma is about to hit rock bottom and I don't want to miss it.

Can I tell you all something? When I was pregnant I really kind of hated you all. I know that sounds harsh, but I was growing a human being and you just smelled bad. Right up until my morning sickness began I thought you were all awesome, but then I had a change of heart. After Alyce was born and you stopped trying to sit on her head as she nursed (because at least two of us found that particularly irritating), my affections returned all the way up until I was pregnant with Shira. Tricked you! Back we were again, dancing that old dance of you smelling bad and demanding too much of my already-spread thin attention and me just not caring very much.

I'm not pregnant again so you're in luck for the time being. I am mostly fond of you. When we moved to Toronto this summer and you were freed from the lonely basement of my mother's house, I was happy for you. Against my better judgement I let you and your cat hair sleep on bed all day long, that is, if you and your cat hair are not sleeping on the living room chair. And I'm even a bit grateful, especially to you Pomegranate, for having the patience to let Alyce fall in love with you. She loves hard, that one, but conditionally: if you don't let her pet you for at least twenty minutes every day she'll turn on you before you can say best friend forever. But if you sit there, as you do, you warm her heart so much that her entire face glows. Thank you.

I'd like the four of us to reach an agreement. I promise to continue paying your rent and showering you with luxury and you promise to keep doing exactly what you're doing. Because if I actually thought you might change in an attempt to make my life easier, well then I would be as ridiculous as you are.

Yours sincerely,
The Management

P.S. Also, thanks Hille for being awesome at catching mice. And for resembling a walrus. You're my favourite.

P.P.S. You, too, Pomegranante.

P.P.P.S. Did you hear that Lucy? We all make our own choices.


  1. I'm literally laughing out loud! Those who are owned by cats will understand. Totally. The irony at my house? Allistair Cookie who is supposed to be MY cat and sleeps on my feet every night, prefers the dog to me. He'd sleep with her, but she won't let him. Night is the one time she gets any peace from him. I feel like a jilted girlfriend.