Dear Cat,

I love you. I mean, I really love you. But just because I love you doesn't mean that you can lay on my chest whenever I'm trying to fall asleep at 3 a.m. OK, that's a lie. I'll let you lay there mainly because you're warm and fuzzy, but at least let me get comfortable before you.

You're my best friend, whenever I'm sad you know it and so you bait me for attention by hitting at my arm and licking my hand until I find the strength to rub your ears. Sometimes I fake being asleep so I don't have to pet you anymore, but that's just because my hand starts to cramp up and after thirty minutes of scratching you I'd think you would have had enough. You understand, don't you?

I'm grateful that you've been with me for a good portion of my life now, and I think I'm afraid of losing you. So I don't really appreciate it whenever you try to scramble out of my hugs. What's wrong with them? Do I smell gross? Can you at least give me a loving nibble instead of immediately running off and hiding under the bed? Get back to me on that one.

You're fat. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but whenever you lay beside me on my twin bed, I'm the one who is being pushed off it and honestly you shouldn't be fatter than me. I weigh like a million pounds and you're supposed to be a tiny cat. Where is the justice? And why do you insist on taking over my bed whenever you have your own? I hope it's because you love me, but that look in your eyes makes it seem more sinister.

Also, stop eating plastic bags. They aren't good for you.

Love,
Your awesome owner