Dear Cat...

My new foster kitty! This is Woo Woo. Well, that's the name she came with. Her parents are Mr. & Mrs. Woo. Dad was a full-blood Himalayan and mom was a Siamese/Snowshoe mix. I've got her to try to socialize her because at her first adoption event for the shelter, she was hissing, spitting, clawing and biting. I've renamed her Witch Hazel (or just Hazel to her friends). Partially because it fits and partially because I don't care how much baby-talking she gets, I'm not calling her 'Woo-woo.' Just. no.

( Picture of Her Royal Highness! )

Dear GG,
I'm sorry I threw you in the sink but I didn't want you to puke on the carpet.
I'm glad your feeling better now.
I'm sorry mum fed you raw hamburger.

Dear Taz, Oxford, Macro, and Pistol (but especially Oxford, because I'm the one that scoops your poop, I know what it looks like),

Thanks so much, darling children, for shitting all over the carpet while we were on vacation. I guess we were too trusting to think that you guys could spend 48 hours without human supervision. And we know you did it for attention, because the boxes got scooped right before we left and you hid it in plain sight. Seriously, cats, what the fuck? It's not the first time you've been left alone and while we could have had Grandma over to check in on you, we figured you could entertain one another well enough so she wouldn't have to drive an hour here and back. You've stayed home alone before for even longer periods of time. At least you were self-aware enough to stay away from the bed last night, knowing that your affection was not required after an hour of steam-cleaning and swearing.

Oh, and real smooth move, crapping in your own cat bed too. Very smart. This, children, is why you will never get the vote.

No love,
Mom and Dad

P.S. Seriously what the fuck

Dear Tie Dye,

I am so sorry, Your Highness, that I subjected you to the indignity of a bath, but your poo foot and tail uck had reached an uncomfortable level for all of us. I had to do something. Thank you for not scarring me as you did during your flea bath back in August. With luck, we won't need to do that again and we'll both feel much better about life in general.

So sorry again,
The Warm Lap

&$*^*%#_&()_* Rumble!
My nipple is NOT for you to play with.

Also, my nose is NOT your personal foot warmer.

Knock it off or there's a career as a pair of slippers* on your horizon, I swear to Dog!

I do love you, though,
The Thing You Smother to Sleep On

*(No, he will not become fur clothing, but boy is it a tempting idea waking up with a cat paw in my mouth at 3AM!)

Dear Maddie, Sasha, and Kravitz:

Winter's coming, and that means it's mouse season again, not to mention we don't know how the eff they're getting in; Mom and Dad swore they sealed up every nook, crack and cranny down here in the basement. I've already caught one under a Crock-Pot lid and tossed it outside (while Kravitz was "on duty"), but my twin has seen another from the corner of her eye. (She also saw you, Maddie, and you, Sasha, bang your heads together when you tried to catch it. Smooth move, girls.)

I solemnly charge you three to step up your game and keep the mouse AWAY from our food, and most especially AWAY from my niece. We haven't had trouble with mice climbing things like blankets or bassinets, and we all want it to stay that way.

I have my leather gloves and the Crock-Pot lid in Standby mode if you need my assistance, but I hope you won't. ('Cause, 'y'know, you're CATS, and it does not reflect well on your performance when a human makes the catch and you don't.)

Good luck, y'all.




= M-F.

Dear Ginger,

( OK, I get it. )

Dear Kravitz:

The end of Daylight Savings time can confuse many a person and cat; I also know animals can't tell time. I understand this. But you, along with certain physical functions that confuse the hell outta me, are waking me up way too early and way too often. You are also too fat for full portions; this is why I give you a fourth-scoop at four-thirty in the morning to shut you up, another fourth later to shut you up again, then a half scoop for lunch, and a half scoop for dinner. (The gooshyfood you eat at ten pm is to help you take your meds and it's low-calorie, so it doesn't count.)

DEAL WITH IT. Until you lose weight, you are NOT getting bigger portions. You're not starving, I promise you. So seriously, knock it off, or you're spending nights in the storage room. Neither of us wants that.

Look, I work part time. This isn't so bad on days I don't have to work, 'cause I can sleep in, but when I do have to work? Yeah, interrupted REM sleep is a problem. You know this (I hope) because I wake you up every time you snore.

Just.... knock it off, all right? Please?



= the feeder.

(PS: I just saw you with cat litter dust up to your knees, some on your tail, and a little on your head. Is the litter in the other cats' litterboxes seriously that deep? ^o_0^)

Dear Lyre,

Almost every time I get on the computer you come up and nuzzle my hands, try to get in my lap, or walk in front of me so I can't see the screen. Then when I pick you up and go to another room so I can give you some undivided attention, you get off my lap and walk away from me! Why do you only want my attention when I'm on the computer? I know you love me Lyre, but I'm doing important work on the computer. It's called job hunting. Can you show me you love me when I'm not at the computer, please?

love
me

Love, I am terrified for you.  When you started having seizures, I had no clue what was going on.  I thought at first you were just a little too hyper off the catnip.  Then, it got worse.  The doc says you'll be fine on these meds and I hope you will be, too.  You need to get some good sleep soon.  I saw how worn out you were today after having that blood work done.  If it's any help, my left leg felt the stab when he got the needle in.  What hurts you hurts me.  I just want everything to be okay.  You are everything I have wanted in a cat and more.  No matter what, I am by your side...  Just like you have been for me when I have been sick.  I love you soooo much.  Please get better, love.  I can only hope that tomorrow brings good news.

I love you like no other.

Your worried Mommy

Dearest BigFatLen and Dylan,
we love you, adore, you, cherish you.
BUT.
3:55am is NOT a good time for cuddles. We will not tolerate our sleep being compromised by the two of you walking on us, up to our chests, hoping to get cuddled. You get to sleep all day, on OUR beds, while we only get to sleep a few hours, at night, on OUR bed, with the two of you taking space where our legs and feet should be. And let's face it Lenny dear, you take A LOT of space. So, the night is for us to sleep.
Sleep, not cuddle the cats.
Oh and so that you know, human bladders and trampolines are NOT the same thing.

Love,
the tired humans.

PS Carrot dear, you weren't there last night giving us grief with the boys, were you? I didn't think so but just in case; this applies to you too xx

Dear Cookie,

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away (known locally as The Vet's) you were given a tummy op to figure out why you couldn't keep your food down. That led to blood clots, me almost weeing myself as the two of us rushed to the emergency clinic at 2am covered in blood, and a lot of stress for all involved. But the test did reveal slightly thickened guts. Whether it was the beginning of IBD or a reaction to all the vomiting, the vets couldn't say.

Over a week ago, you started up again - you couldn't keep your food down. I spent several hours traipsing through the city centre, looking for different kinds of hypo-allergenic food. I know diet changes should be made gradually, but we can't take you to the PDSA until we have a new certificate. Softy Lap (that's me, for us non-Cookies) was pretty much desperate.

I think we've tried every pet food available in Belfast (NI) and, as is the modus operandi of a cat, the only one that had any significant effect was the 95% natural, no-colourings, no-dairy, vitamin-crazed Tesco's own organic brand (of all things).... that we tried last, you little bugger.

But the Purina One hypo-allergenic stuff (stupid animal testing company - but I was desperate) had all of these things too. But Tesco's has one thing it didn't: no wheat.

And now we're in a quandary. You have kept your food down since we put you on it. You're more energetic, and less clingy - you always get clingy when you're sick, poor dove. But there's a new million pound dollar question:

Are you allergic to wheat, or was it an IBD flare-up? The two may not even be mutually-exclusive. The wheat allergy may be what sets off the IBD. Or it could be a ginormous co-inky-dink.

You puzzle us deeply.

- Softy Lap, your favourite and baffled servant

Listen up, Mr. Fluffypants,

The indoor pot plant? Is not mine. It belongs to our lovely and longsuffering housemate, whom you are STILL ignoring. It is NOT fair game for noms.

Honestly, cat. Cats are obligate carnivores. Plants are not your dinner. And even if they were, the way you deliberately and methodically eat every single leaf of every indoor plant you find CAN'T be healthy. (Lucky bamboo, rosebush, nasturtium vine and now this one...)

Stick to the kibble and the gooshyfood. Please.

Love,
The provider of scritches and noms

Dear Emerald;
I know your not impressed with having a new baby (kitten) sister, but Sookie is a real sweetheart and she's staying here now. Please get used to her. You would both have so much fun playing. You could share toys and you could be good friends.
We love you. <3
Love Mommy and Daddy

I am sorry that Daddy and I had to wash your behind today but we had to get out all that nasty matting and litter that was in your fur. Be thankful we only washed the lower half and not all over or you would be colder than you are now. Come onto my lap and we'll give you good pettins to dry you off.

Love
Mommy.

that has moved into my garage,


Hello sweet one. You are still too small to be without your Mama, but she seems to have abandoned you to our care since your sibling disappeared. It's good to know you're enjoying the food I'm putting out for you, but you don't have to run off and hide every time you see me, I promise I wont hurt you.

You seem to be taking the growling of the big cats in stride (tough little thing, aren't you?). Try not to take it personally, they were both rescues themselves (Homeboy was even younger than you when he found his way into the garage) and so they tend to be a bet possessive of their hard-won home.

Nice that you popping out where I can see you more often. If you want to come up to me, I promise nothing bad will happen. I know you've watched me snuggling with Homeboy and Sweetie, and if you want to join in, I will lavish you with pettins.

In the mean time, please continue to enjoy the food I'm putting down for you, and please consider our garage to be your home base. You are more than welcome here, and I look forward to a time when I can give you all the cuddles a kitten like you needs to thrive.

~The soft touch that feeds you

Dear Peekaboo and Munchkin:

Something must have happened to your mama, because you are so itty bitty! I wonder if you had other brothers and sisters who didn't make it. It makes me sad. But I am so glad that nice lady brought you to the shelter yesterday. She found you eating the food on her porch that was for her (grown-up) cats. Probably not good for teeny kitten tummies--and hard on teeny kitten teeth!

Munchkin, you were so good drinking your kitten milk, even though I think I mixed it not quite right. Peekaboo, I almost cried when you refused the milk. If you didn't eat, you wouldn't be a big, strong kitty! :( But you knew what you wanted: you wanted the meat! Glad we had that no-chunks gooshy food for you. Both of you ate it all up. Yay!!

You were probably very scared, because there's lots of noise and lights. But you were so sweet, snuggling against me. I hope I put enough blankies in your cage. I think I'll go back today and put that covered bed in there with you, so you can stay even warmer.

I won't see you again until next Saturday. But Miss Judy and Miss Jackie and all the volunteers will take good care of you. Just don't forget me between now and then.

Love,
the woman who named you

Dear Summer,

Welcome to the family, mamacat. You're simply too much of a sweetheart to let go. The two adorable fuzzballs you brought with you will have to go to other homes eventually, but you get to stay with us, pretty kitty.

Love,

Your new family

Dear Kittyface,
As adorable as it is that you can use your paw to eat your food by scooping it up out of the bowl, you tend to leave a nice mess of all the food you drop on the floor. Quite frankly, I'm sick of cleaning it up. I'm not so sure what got you started on such a bad habit, but could you please cut it out? Also, when I go to the bathroom, it is not an invite for you to follow me, watch me pee, then watch the water go down the toilet. Soon enough you'll be able to use the potty yourself, so calm down.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Smudge,
I'm not sure who taught you how to use a litter box, as I wasn't around when you were a tiny kitten. Contrary to popular belief, scratching the side of the litter box does nothing to mask the smell of your toxic waste, and when it isn't covered, the lovely smell wafts throughout the house. Let me just say, I can't wait until you are potty trained. I think I'm going to let everyone else in on our secret training regime, because I'm sure there are other cat owners out there with cats who do not like to cover their poo.

Love,
your Mommy's roommate

Vicious,
I greatly appreciate you keeping me company last night while I was coughing. I'm so happy you curled up behind me (I'll pretend it wasn't for warmth) when I finally fell back to sleep. However, my bed is only a twin sized and you're about the size of my Stitch plushie, so when you curl up in a spot where normally there are only plushies, I can't tell in my 1/2 asleep mindset if it's you or a plush. I'm sorry I rolled over on you, and I'm really glad you're a large, sturdy cat. Next time, sleep in the window spot that you normally do. That's wonderfully close and much safer for you.
Love you, lovebug.
~Momma