“As anyone who has ever been around a cat for any length of time well knows, cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the humankind.” – Cleveland Amory
Dear servants…er, proprietors…er, humans:
We’ve been meaning to thank you for purchasing this lovely abode. We’ve resided at The Manor for a few years now, and it’s getting harder to remember the old place, but this house is huuuuuge and has a lot of windows.
We’d like to take a moment to share our thoughts on the accommodations, including comfort level, food, and overall service.
We really hope the two of you can keep up with cleaning our abode, especially the lady. Housework is not her strong suit, and dust makes us sneeze.
At first, we bemoaned the lack of heater vents. We used to lie right on top of them at the old house, successfully absorbing most of the warm air before it could ever begin to impact the actual temperature of the room.
While the new home lacks that amenity, the radiators are a treat! We’ve noticed we can lie right beside them, successfully and efficiently warming our fuzzy little butts. In some cases, they have even been enhanced with convenient benches so we don’t have to lie on the floor.
We know you mock us for our lack of fortitude. But since you insist on keeping the heat at 62 degrees throughout most of the winter (and no, we would NOT like to go get a job to help pay for the heating bill), we’re freezing.
Our fur is surprisingly inadequate for keeping us warm. It’s mostly there so you’ll pet us and tell us how soft and adorable we are.
While the radiators are nice, we’ve noticed someone put plastic over the windows in the living room. While this does seem to block our lounging benches from that nasty draft, the chipmunks and birds in the side yard are strangely indistinct.
We appreciate that the house offers enough guest rooms for each of us to have our own bed. This feature was sadly lacking in our old home, where we had to (gasp) actually lie on the couch together. But your insistence on kicking us out of these rooms when you’ve prepared them for human guests is objectionable. Why should we have to relinquish our private spaces just because you wanted to have people over?
We’ve noticed, too, that locating you when we have an urgent need takes a great deal more effort in such a massive structure. Sometimes we require treats, or playtime, or to have our butts scratched, or simply to howl at you for no apparent reason, and it takes a long time to figure out where you are in this three-story residence. We’re getting so much exercise looking for you that we might waste away to nothing.
(Hey…why are you laughing?)
Your bad habit of closing the basement door behind you whenever you go downstairs has not gone unnoticed. With our lack of opposable thumbs, it’s impossible for us to open the door ourselves so we can follow you. Closed doors are unacceptable, as you well know. Please see that this situation is remedied as soon as possible.
The chef has become oddly experimental with our meals these days, and we have reservations. We understand that we’re chubby and middle-aged, with various health problems, and you don’t want us stuffing our faces with Friskies anymore, but surely there’s a compromise.
The sardine cutlets and ahi tuna were nice, but that last can of rubbish actually had PEAS in it, and we think we tasted pumpkin too. Grain-free is fine, but we draw the line at fruits and vegetables.
While we’re on the topic of meals, what’s with keeping the dry food under lock and key? It only comes out of the machine once a day, and the measured amount is highly insufficient. We must resort to sticking our paws up into the kibble-prison to extract the pieces one at a time.
It’s like you think you can’t trust us with unlimited food. We’ve never eaten too much and thrown up in your shoe. Not once.
Speaking of rumbling bellies, the provision of treats is by no means frequent enough in this establishment. We’ve tried everything to get this point across.
We gang up on you every time you enter the kitchen. We stare at you in unison with our most endearing expressions, doing our best to control you with our superior kitty minds, but to no avail.
Let it be understood that the practice of limiting treats to once or twice a day is highly unacceptable. Treats should be dispensed on demand.
The amount of playtime we experience is sorely lacking as well. Everyone always seems to have an excuse. The man actually tells us he can’t play because he has to do something called “work”.
But at least he's always had the good sense to stay home to do this “work”! The lady used to leave the house every morning, despite our most plaintive meows. She had the nerve to tell us that someone must commute to a “job” every day to make enough money to buy kitty food and that if we didn't like it, we could start contributing to the family budget.
I think she’s asking us to do “work” too. As if.
It seems our rational pleas finally got through to her because she's been working from home since last March. Something about a "pandemic", whatever that is. We're just excited we have the opportunity to show her colleagues and clients our butts when she's taking important Zoom meetings.
Let’s talk about couch time. We especially like it, and you don’t do it enough. The best part is when you tell us that it’s time to hang out, and we come running, stare at you briefly, and then go sit somewhere else.
We know you find it insulting. We know it hurts your feelings. We don’t care. Sit on the couch when WE want you to, not when it’s convenient.
Your convenience is of no importance to us.
Overall, we feel the accommodations have potential, with substantial room for improvement. Please take our concerns under immediate advisement and let us know promptly, in writing, what will be done to remedy them.
Your feline overlords,
Buster and Bella
“In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.” — Terry Pratchett