Dear cats:
I do not understand why you find it funny to spend most of the day sleeping so you can wake up at 4 a.m. and decide it is the perfect time to open all the dresser drawers, roll golf balls across the hardwood floor and repeatedly tap the windows with your paws as you try to catch the moths you see fluttering on the other side of the glass.
I do not understand why you bite my fingers and toes while I am trying to sleep. Or why you have to chase each other across the bed, often jumping on my stomach or my chest in the process. (And Meep, you probably weigh at least 10 pounds now, and you're so fat that your belly sags, and it hurts when you land on me.)
Mari, why do you have to knock the water glasses over? And claw at your reflection in the mirror -- over and over and over? And whine incessantly, like you are the saddest cat in the whole entire world and you are about to die because everyone hates you? (Which is completely untrue, since we are always picking you up and carrying you around and telling you what a pretty girl you are. And you have more toys than third-world country children. And you eat premium food and organic, human-grade cat treats. And you even drink filtered water.)
Meep, I do not understand why showing your love involves sticking your butt in my face. And why your butt is so often dirty. And why you spend 20 minutes digging in your cat box, but you never really cover your poo.
I also do not understand why both of you took all of the cherry tomatoes out of the bowl on the dining table. Why is this fun? Cats aren't even supposed to like vegetables! But I am still finding cherry tomatoes all over the house.
There are also teeth marks on all of our magazines, kitty litter crumbs all over the floor and cat hair just about everywhere.
Please explain.
Thank you.
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