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…