Dear Scout,
You've really grown since we first met. You were once just a lanky feline hunting for bugs around an abandoned apartment complex, but now you've put on some pounds (in a good way!) and are quite the picky eater—honesty, just pick a brand and roll with it! And tone it down when you're begging for treats. You put the dog—who drools and uses the puppy dog eyes—to shame when you meow and paw at the cabinet holding your goodies.
I'm sure you know this already, but I think you're the cutest little kitty in the whole wide world. However, this doesn't mean you can get away with everything just because you know you're cute. Such as:
Sleeping in the dryer. No.I know it's warm and cozy, but it scares your cat mom to death to think she might accidentally lock you in there and bake you.
Sleeping on mom's clothes. OK, I'll admit, I let you get away with this a lot because I like to think you feel most comfortable when you're around my scent (and I think it's super cute, of course). On the other hand, you shed. Quite a bit. On my clean laundry. This includes the black dress clothes you claimed as your pillow the night before a job interview. Thank you for that. Also, you've taken to stealing my socks and carrying them around the house like prey. At first, I tolerated it and deemed it cute, as usual. Then you graduated to dragging mom's underwear around the house. Not so cute.
Yes, flopping around on my towel is undeniably adorable, but mom has to take a shower. How many times was I almost late for work because of this? Many times. And how many scratches did I get for poking your belly? So many.
Again, mom has to take a shower! Always remember the time I turned the faucet on while you were in there. Never forget—I know water is your weakness! Though, sometimes it's cute when you putz around in the tub. But it wasn't cute when you knocked over a conditioner bottle with your tail, panicked, got stuck in the curtain, jumped in my lap, and dug your claws into my thigh while I was going to the bathroom. I guess I'll never forget that.
Be nice to your big brother, Sheldon. He's a precious, oversized cinnamon roll that doesn't deserve to live in fear under your reign of terror. You already put the fear of god in him the first time you met—you, puffing up and darting in claws first, and him, tail wagging and utterly confused. You two have made amends, and I've watched him grow on you. Hard to hate him, huh? He's too lovable to hate. However, he still tip-toes around you. Ease up. You already know he's not going to eat you. Be nice. Please? (P.S. You two make a wonderful cat loaf and dog donut combo.)
You have this habit of claiming things that are not yours. Grandma's exercise bike? No. Kitchen table? No. Kitchen counter? No. And for the love of god, stop digging your claws into my computer chair. You've nearly destroyed what once was a beautiful chair. And for that I can't forgive you. Sorry.
You like to be in bags. Why? It's unclear. What I do know is that you have this uncanny ability to jump in bags right before I'm about to use them. Again, why? Why must you do this to me?
Sometimes I think you like to look down on me...in places that are hard for you to get down. Seriously? Why?
You see the poster and trophies on top of my book shelf? How many times have you knocked those over? TOO MANY TIMES.
Consider this payback for all the times you've used your cute status to your advantage. My family will snuggle you to death in retaliation. Which you're not a fan of, for whatever reason.
I guess after all this what I mean to say is you're more than just cute. You're a troublemaker. You're a jokester. You're a wildcard. You're inventive. You're athletic. You're entertaining. And, even if cuddles aren't your thing, you're loving.
You were abandoned, neglected, but you are still loving toward people.
I love you to the moon and back, Scout. I look back on that day when I first saw you, rubbing up against the window and meowing, and I have no regrets. I brought you home and the first thing you did was sit in my lap, declaring the typical endearment of a cat: Mine.
You are mine, and I am yours.
Love,
Alex
