Why do I love you so? It’s not like you do anything useful. We don’t have mice.
That’s why you broke into the gerbil cage, I guess. But you dropped the gerbil unharmed as soon as I started choking you, so you’re a good cat.
And I know you have a sensitive stomach. You can’t help it. The vet said so. I’ve tried 27 different kinds of cat food. I’ll try them all, there has to be one you can digest. Meanwhile, I’ll just clean up after you.
It was a strain on my marriage when you vomited into the cable box, causing a 3 day sports channel blackout, but we’re past that now.
I was used to the routine, waking up to the sound of gagging, changing the litter so that you don’t pee on my paperwork, having you on my lap all the time except when I want you there — I know cats don’t come when they’re called. I thought I understood your feline needs.
But now this — I turn my back for a moment and you rip the keys off my laptop. It’s not even mine, it’s from work. And there was the N, the Y and the U, lying on the floor. I don’t know how I managed to snap them back on. It took a while.
What next? You sit on top of the refrigerator and gaze down at me so serenely. What are you thinking?