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An Open Letter to the Humans who Laced my Treats with Weed
Highly Inappropriate
My dear owners,
I begin my letter with a grievance I have endured on my evening prowl across the countertops. It was something so atrocious, I may have to report you to the FBI (feline bureau of investigation) for crimes against kittens. Believe me, this is the last thing I want to do for I am a reasonable cat. Before I whip out the retractable claws on another piece of furniture (that new table sure looks nice), I would like to give you a chance, my dear owners, to explain yourselves. If you wouldn’t mind, please bring your attention to the following questions:
Do I not provide you with warm toes and pleasant foot attacks in the morning?
Are my purrs not an angelic sound?
Is my sprawled out body on the kitchen floor not a cute sight when you’re busy?
Do I not provide a thorough enough tasting of your food before you turn around to take a bite?
This is not an interrogation. I would simply like to understand the reason for your lashing out after all the joy I give. I only hope your excuse is justifiable, so that your La Z Boy may be spared.
The act occurred last Sunday night. I was in search for last minute crumbs that you may have left on the counter. I noticed a small sugar cookie had been thrown to the dog about an hour ago. As there was no reason to reward such a hyperactive animal, this left me curious. I had to investigate. That was when I saw it. Sticking to the surface were a few spare crumbs of a cookie. I figured, after all my hard work of being me, because lets face it, there is nothing harder than being a kitten, my loyal humans left me a treat to munch on.
What began as something sweet and delicious, ended with me being loopy and not feeling my most vicious. How, may I ask, do you expect me to be an alert guard cat in this state? All I wanted to do was stretch out on the floor in a daze. When you went to the fridge, when I should have lunged at your ankle, I lay still, with no longer an urge to kill. Do you think this is funny?
While you sit there, Led Zeppelin ballads playing in your head, I’m losing my edge. I await your response, good human. And I would make it quick. Because Santa is not the only set of claws coming to your living room this year.
With love and hisses,
Stitch the Cat
