An Open Letter To My Cats...

To My Cats:

Every day I make sure you get wholesome food to eat, a clean place to “do your business,” fresh water, open windows to watch the birdies from, sunny places to sleep and more beds than any human in this house has.

I ask for little in return; that you get along with each other, you find fulfillment and happiness here, that you show me a moment or two of affection from time to time.

What I really don't care for is when you lose control of your mind and decide to use my feet for traction in your attempt to escape each other's wrath.

Really. Do you need to aim for my feet when there's another 2599 sq ft (pardon the pun) of space to freak out in? Can't you just AVOID ME, ME, your dear “Mother,” when your claws are out?

You know I could do something about those claws. I could. But I'm a nice person, so instead of taking your claws, this afternoon while you're passed out asleep, under my desk, I'm going to get an air horn and “accidently” fire it off.

But first, let me put on my shoes.