dear gracie

I must start this by sharing with you one truth I have been keeping secret for your entire cat life.  Please do not hate me but sadly, you are not a dog.  Yes, you heard me correctly.  Feline.  Cat.  Mouser.  No, there is nothing I can do to change it.  Just like we dressed up Maddie to be a reindeer for Christmas, she was still a dog.  A flashing red nose and antlers didn’t mean she could fly.


Think of the bright side: you’ve got the tail thing in common, right?

There are a few other things that we must address, because your OCD on what it is we’re opening on the kitchen counter has reached an annoyance level I only thought was possible with a two-year-old clinging to a chocolate bar in a grocery store. Contrary to what you believe, we don’t eat tuna or chicken or cheese every day and we aren’t just being greedy and not sharing the goods.  You can meow and twitter and reach up the cabinets with your paws and rub against our legs all you want.

You don’t like vegetables or fruit or coffee.  We’ve offered.

Another thing – Alegre’s collar is not a chew toy. You wonder why she jerks up, hisses and then smacks you across the head when you try to yank the bell off while she’s sleeping.  Here’s a little secret: She doesn’t like it.

Also, we’ve bought about a million toys.  Do you think you can find just one of those specifically designed with you in mind to play with and enjoy?  The shower curtain was not among the items we purchased thinking, “Gracie would LOVE that!”  Nor are shoe laces or shirt sleeves.  I know you like paper balls but we had to stop giving them to you because somehow they always *magically* end up in the community water bowl and no one much appreciates that.

And yes, we are aware that we have to continuously refill the food and water bowls.  I know Maddie thinks they miraculously regenerate the missing items but you’ve realized where it really comes from and you do a wonderful, loud job of reminding us – incessantly – until we do our half of the bargain.  We won’t let you starve to death.  It really can wait five minutes.  Your stomach won’t digest itself in that time.  Trust me.

And yes, sometimes we run out of the normal food.  WE’RE SORRY.  Just eat the back-up flavor.  A little variety never hurt.

And just so you know, we love you for your outgoing, never give up attitude.  As many times as Alegre knocked you off of the ottoman after it took your five minutes to claw your way to the top, you’d shake yourself off and try again.  You were the first to force Alegre to like you and investigate the new, loud disturbance called Maddie while everyone else cowered in the corner.  And are always the last to stop playing.


Just do us one teeny, tiny favor: if the door is partially closed in the middle of the night, its for a reason.  No need to rear up on your hind legs and push on the door with the entire weight of your body amassed in your front paws.  With the amount of force reverberating off the wood and the doorstop, you’d think a grown adult had forced it open.  Yes, we do wake up.  And no amount of cajoling or walking up and down our horizontal bodies will get us out of bed to fill an empty food dish.  Remember?  It can wait.


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