by Dan Hiland

Created on: September 10, 2009

21 DEC 2008

Dear Tall Human:

I am having this letter dictated to you since I refuse to sully my paws with such menial labor. Besides, humans can't seem to get it through their thick skulls that my species needs typewriter keys about four times larger than theirs- those pathetic and spindly digits they have, called "fingers", I believe.

They're probably afraid that typing would be just one more thing that us felines could do so much better than them.

I notice that you are no longer on the premises of my home. Why can't the rest of the humans here get the hint and vacate so that I can have the house to myself. I deserve it, for Cat's sake!

While I don't recall you ever feeding me or petting me much, you were the only human at the house that tried to talk to me in my native language- and I responded, didn't I?

As such, I will confide in you: These humans think they are my "owners." Can you imagine such gall? Makes me want to leave a nice big hairball- or something more "substantial"- on their new couch.

Furthermore, they seem to think they are doing me such a huge favor by hauling me in during the cold days and nights. While I approve of such actions, the humans fall short, as usual. Even "Dad", the one human I have almost completely under my control now - he doesn't get it. Sure, he'll bring me in when it's cold and rainy, but after a few hours he puts me back outside.

If his mate had her way I'd never be allowed in my own home again. But that's no surprise, considering it was probably her idea to send me to that horrid Doctor Faber- the male human who "fixed" me. (And people wonder why we say "Me-OW!")

She'll get hers when we take over in 2012...

"Dad" thinks that letting me sleep on him while he watches the noise box is doing me such a big favor. To tell the truth, I used to very much enjoy sleeping at his feet (but only when his leather foot coverings were on), and especially on his warm stomach- but lately that stomach has grown so large that I dare not rest there. Every time I relax I start to roll off, then have to save furry face by pretending that I planned to hit the wood flooring head-first.

And after all the falls I took as a kitten, I don't want to ruin my current reputation as one of the most coordinated felines on the block. That time I hit the side of the desk head-first when I was younger- I meant to do that, of course.

And then there's the water. It took the family at least a week to figure out that I need cool water- not ice! - to drink. What do they think I am, anyway? One of those moronic rabbits or pathetic squirrels I rule over in the back yard?

Well, I must go now, as it's time for my grooming- another one of those menial tasks that humans will be forced to do when Cats rule the World.

Please remember that the information in this letter is for your eyes only. I trust you- but only to a point. After all, you are a human and a cat can't be too careful these days.

With Clean Paws and Claws,

and

Your best friend in the entire world,

Emily D. Cat

PS: When you return, I will teach you how to serve- that is, "assist" me.

____________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________

Dear Dr. Faber:

The attached letter was returned to my address today by the Postmaster, due to insufficient postage and a telltale hairball stuck to the back of the envelope.

Further examination revealed several paw prints bearing a suspicious resemblance to those of my cat Emily. The letter, which she somehow had transcribed- she won't tell me who the co-conspirator is- is addressed to my daughter Carma, who is attending Air Force Basic Training in San Antonio.

Please read this and advise. I'm afraid that our cat is losing it...

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