Dear Buttercup,


I know you almost died last month, and I’m glad you’re feeling better, glad you’re hungry and spunky and full of joie de vivre. I know I begged you to live and I spent the gross national product of a small nation to make it happen. BUT THAT DOESN’T GIVE YOU CARTE BLANCHE.

1) Get your fat furry ass off my keyboard. Just because you have nothing to do all day doesn’t mean I don’t. Do you think I get your food for free? I need to earn a living.

2) Don’t attack my hands if I dare to reach down to scratch my foot while you are sitting beneath my chair. That’s not as funny as you think.

3) Walk BESIDE me not BETWEEN my ankles. Who do you think will open a can of food for you when both my legs are broken?

4) Three a.m. is NOT a convenient time for me to let you outside.

5) Since you insist on spending so much time leaning into the toilet bowl, could you just go there when you are barfing up a hairball? Please?????

P.S. I’m still upset about the decapitated baby mole you brought me this weekend. Don’t do that again.

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