Yep, the rising
feline star actually receives fan mail from time to time, a clear indication
that we have some folks out there who
might need to get out of the house a little more. I thought it was only appropriate
that Scotch respond to these missives, since these folks took the time to
correspond with a kitty, but you know how cats are. They aren’t interested in
doing anything that wasn’t originally their idea. But eventually, after I
pretended to no longer care and went into another room to make fake busy noises,
Scotch padded over to my desk, slipped into my fancy office chair, adjusted
some of the controls with his tail, picked up the first letter, and began to
read…
Deer Skotch...We
luved your Store Ree. It sounds like our house too eggsept we have 2 Mommies
that won't let us on the toplap to make our reports. Keep up the faith, our
brother from another mother....Piece Out! Your Ginger Brothers from across the
pond, Angel and Spike Aten-Shearwood
Dear People Who
Wrote This,
Why are you
talking about deer? I don’t think I like deer. I was watching a dockingmentary
on the NayChore channel the other day, because my daddies left it on that
stupid station and I couldn’t press the buttons on the Ream Oat because my
stupid daddies didn’t trim my nails and I kept making the sound louder instead
of making the picture change and I was not very happy.
Oh. I don’t think
I should be saying my daddies are stupid because they feed me and stuff and I
really don’t want that part of stuff to stop because I’m hungry a lot. All the
time. I don’t have any brothers and sisters so I just eat and sleep. I don’t
know any different.
But I do know
that I didn’t like the deer on that show. I don’t like horns. Nobody I know has
horns. So horns are bad. I think. I don’t know.
I don’t know what
I’m talking about right now. I get confused. Sometimes sunshine comes in my
favorite window and sometimes it doesn’t come in. Nobody told me why, I just
wait for the sunshine and keep myself clean.
Oh, wait, you
have two mommies? I think that’s good. Better than dockingmentaries about
stupid deer with stupid horns. And those co-mershal things, with stuff to
buy. Why do the Big People need
something so they can clap and make lights turn on? Just go ask a Daddy. He can
turn it on for you. And maybe give you treats if you did the right things that
day. Or are cute. Cute means treats sometimes, so I try that a lot.
Why are we
talking?
Oh yeah, two
mommies. I have two daddies, so we are just alike except your Big People have
to sit down when they squirt water. And they don’t have a dangle thing that I
want to scratch when they are sleeping and making noises with their mouths.
Tabby Lee, the cat who gets to run around Out Side and sometimes talks to me
when I’m in my favorite window, she says that I use to have a dangle thing too,
but I think she drinks a lot, so I don’t know.
But what is the
ginger stuff? What is ginger brothers? I was in the pantry one day, because
when somebody opens that door I know I need to run like crazy because I might
be getting a treat, the pantry is the Treat Kingdom, there are treasures in
there. So I was sitting there all nice and not-clawing in the pantry, and one
of the daddies knocked over something and it fell on the floor down where I
live. A bag of something. I can’t read
very well, because I hit my head when I was little, trying to fly, but I think
the bag said “Gingersnap Cooties”.
Is that what you
and your brother are? Ginger Cooties? I don’t know if that’s really fun or not,
because I don’t know what that is. And I don’t know why you would want to be in
a bag that can fall down, unless you just have to do that because your Mommies
said you had to. My Daddies make me do stuff all the time that is not right and
doesn’t make me happy, so I understand if you have to live in a bag, because I
have to stop scratching stuff even though it feels good and I like the sound of
things being ripped to pieces.
Oh. That made me
think of something. Have you ever played with the fancy machine in the bathroom
that gives you paper if you just pull on it? I think it’s called the Twyla
Paper Distemper. I love that thing. You can whack at it for a long time and
paper just keeps coming out. Until it doesn’t anymore. Then it’s kind of sad,
like when there’s something floating in your water bowl and you don’t want it
in there anymore, even though you put it there. I don’t know why I do stuff
sometimes but I think Daddies should just fix it when I don’t like it and not
just tell me it’s my fault.
But even when the
magic paper stops coming out, there’s still fun. You can roll around in the
paper and play games about being trapped and you have to kill the paper and rip
it up. Then you can hear one of those noises that the Big People don’t hear you
hearing, and you can pretend to be scared and go running all over the house
without knowing where to really go. And that makes some of the paper be in
every room and that’s a special thing I like to do. I’m an inferior decorator!
The Daddies don’t
think so, though. They say bad words when they pick up all my presents
everywhere. They don’t understand that I’m giving them nice things. I have to
hide for a while until they quit stomping around and talking about trees dying
for no reason. But then I get them back when they try to pick me up and love on
me, and I get to act like it hurts me and I just want to get down or I’m going
to die. Daddies can’t scream and twist like me, so they need to understand that
my fighting makes me very important. And they need to give me treats for my
special skills.
Okay, I think
that answers all your questions, fan mail writer person. You said more stuff
about “Angel” and “Spike”. I think those might be your names, because names are
at the end of stuff you read that you find in the mailbox, but those words make
me think of a TV show that my Daddies used to watch, one that I didn’t like
when they watched it. That show was about van pires, people that bite you in
the night. But I can bite in the night
too, and I do, all the time, so they just need to turn the TV off and wait for
me to get bored. Anyway, bye bye.
Dear Scotch,
My name is Princess
Noelle. I am a supurr sexxy sleek jet black kitty with purrty gold eyes. I live
in a catsell with my Queen Mommy and King Consort Daddy and my Prince Poodle
brother. I would love to trade my brother for another daddy like you have
though.
My hobbies are
laser light shows, making things go bump in the night, ambushing my brother and
all things shiny and sparkly (I get that from my mommy). I also enjoy indulging
in a bit of herbal relaxation on occasion. Maybe someday we can meet, enjoy
some fresh grown herb and learn all about who, what, when, where, why and how
together. Maybe even get Mary'd and share a sunny window.
Dear Princess No L,
How did you
become a princess in our land? My daddies say they don’t have royal T’s where
we live. They say this while we are watching dockingmentaries on TV where they
are talking about Egg Land, where they still let people wear crowns and long
robes that I want to jump on and rip and then act like I don’t know what people
are talking about when the don’t like ripping. (Try it! It’s fun!) I think one
of my daddies really wants to be a royal T, because he likes to wave like that
one queen woman, queen Liza Beth, where she waves like her arm is broken or
something and she needs to use the litter box real soon.
What is super
sexy? I don’t know anything about sexy. Because my daddies ripped my berries
out when I was too little to fight and now I don’t think of sexy. Well, they
didn’t really do the ripping (they don’t like ripping! bad kitty!) but I saw
them sign a little piece of paper and give it to the man who did the ripping.
If you sign something and give it to people, that means you are saying “yes, do
a bad thing and here is my otter graph”. I learned that watching Cord TV.
But I do know
what a catsell is. I learned that watching the stories about Queen Liza Beth,
her ugly children with big ears, and lots of catsell staff who did jobs I could
do, like wind a clock or make sure there were seven doves flying in the air
when Liza Beth had to go tinkle. I think I would like to live in a catsell,
because with that many people, somebody is gonna have treats in their pocket.
Why do you want
to trade your brother? I had a brother and a sister who had to go to a resting
place with angels, and I didn’t want to trade them, but it happened anyway. But
if your brother is fussy and makes people look at him instead of you, well,
that’s not good. You have to always be the cutest if you want to win. My mommy
told me that, before I didn’t listen to her and ran away and was very scared
until my new Daddies found me in the pumpkin patch at their house. My new house
is not a catsell, but there is always food in my bowl.
What is a
hobbies? Are those the little people in those movies about the Lord’s Ring?
Those really long movies where I fall asleep trying to be cute and I wake up
two hours later and movie people are still talking about a ring that I don’t
care about? I think you don’t need hobbies. Too long.
But laser light
shows? That would be when the daddies make something shiny dance on the floor
and I go a little bit crazy because I must kill that light spot even thought I
can’t catch it. (My friend Tabby Lee says making lights dance that you can’t
catch is child abuse. I never know if I can believe her or not.) Making things
go bump in the night is good, though. I’m trained for that, even if I don’t
remember who trained me. Maybe the angels who are resting? I don’t know.
Okay, the other
stuff you are talking about. I don’t think you should ambush your brother.
That’s silly. He’s a poodle and he’s a dog. He’s going to ambush himself, so
just let it happen without getting off your special pillow. I do like Shiny and
Sparkly, they were my favorite characters on “Will and Grace”. But I didn’t like how that show ended. I thought
it was stupid. And it’s hard for me to call things stupid, because I lick my
own boo-boo.
Now, what is this
with herbal? Herbal Essence? Like the shampoo, where the commercials had people telling two friends and telling
two friends and the TV screen was full of hundreds of big-hair women who just
should go to a disco and leave me alone? Oh wait. I might be mixing up my
shampoos. I don’t really use one (I have a tongue!) so I should maybe be quiet.
But if you want to share shampoos and talk about why and how, okay, but I don’t
want there to be water. Especially if there is something floating in it that I
threw in there but then decided I shouldn’t have done that.
Thank you for
asking to be Mary’d and sharing windows, even though I can’t have sex and I
will claw you out of the window if I want to be in it. But I can’t do that. I
can’t be Mary’d . Not until my daddies can be Mary’d too. I have to protest and
wave a sign and smile for the TV people and vote for progress people. Everyone
should get a Mary if they love each other. I learned about that watching the
Ellen show while I waited for my puff balls to dry out after I Bap Tithed them
in my water bowl.
Okay, I have to
go now. My daddies will be home soon and I need to make sure that I have the
magic paper from the bathroom spread out in a way that will help me win Design Starch. Bye bye.
Scotch.
P.S. If you have treats, I want them now. Thank yoo.
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