A letter from your cat:
I love you, but sometimes you just don't "get me." I get lonely all by myself, and unless you fianlly decide to learn my language, I would like someone else to talk to. I am tired of playing games by myself, would you get me a friend to play with? Human contact is great, but sometimes I feel the need to hang out with my animal peers. Sometimes I am destructive, but that is only because I get bored. You try to commiserate, but only another cat can truly understand and the joy of a catnip high. When I try to discuss politics with you at dinner time, you think I am crying for food! If I had a friend, I wouldn't always get in trouble for things; I could blame my crimes on my new buddy. Remember last Christmas when I ate the tree tinsel and it was hanging half out of my bum or the time I got a plastic bag stuck on my tail and thought someone was chasing me? Well, it sure would have been nice to have someone to confide in, about those things, they were pretty embarrassing. A feline companion would appreciate my offerings of love, ie., dead bugs, lizards and mice and not squeal in fear or disgust. When I want to play "Jungle Kitty" my new friend will play along, not giggle when I am trying to hide and I leave my head and tail still sticking out. You know how I crouch down real low, creep forward slowly, then wiggle my butt before pouncing and attacking the Feather Monster? That's not funny, that is an ancient kitty technique. It takes skill! Remember when I ate that rubber band and it only came part out? Remember how you gently tried to pull it out but instead it stretched then snapped back and scared the crap out of me? I sure wished I had had someone to talk to about that. Your version of helping: "Wait come back, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that!" Was hard to believe, since you were snorting and crying from laughing so hard. In closing, I promise to be on my best behavior if you bring me home a friend--otherwise I cannot guarantee the safety of your prized plants...