A Letter to My Cat

Dear Miles,

You are extremely cute and somewhat insane. Do you realize that I spent three and a half hours on Saturday looking for you, calling your name, and begging you to come home? I walked into underbrush so thick, I doubt you could have even penetrated it. I had a stick. I lifted tree limbs. I talked to every person I saw. I spoke Spanish, and I don't know Spanish. I made a flier with the bold headline "LOST CAT" and a picture of you. I told everyone how handsome you are. I cried in the tub. I raged. I couldn't eat. papertigers couldn't eat. Neither of us could enjoy anything.

And then you just sauntered up to the sliding glass door and demanded your dinner.

Why didn't you come home when called? Because you didn't feel like it, pure and simple.

You are lying here on the sofa, curled up into a little ball, with one paw on your nose. Yet you regularly claw the carpet as though it were a scratching post. These things are difficult to reconcile. On the one hand: adorable! On the other: bad! I feed you twice a day, yet you often claim to be starving, and when the food comes out, you jump onto the chest of drawers and try to eat Sandy's share. And by the way, we buy this expensive food just for you. But do you appreciate it? No. Instead, you try to drink the milk from my cereal.

Also, please note that the cupboard where I keep my computer was not meant to be your bed.

Love,

Your Favorite Mommy