Sorry I Barfed on Your Bed

by Jeremy Greenberg

  Name: Hendrix

  Age: 3½ Years

  Re: Stand back, my liege, the red dot attacks

  My Lady,

  Since domestic kitties shredded their first rolls of ancient Egyptian toilet papyrus, we have earned our keep by ridding homes of pests. We have banished mice from barns and feather dusters from tables. We have scoured windowsills for half-dead flies, terrorized untied shoelaces, and even made our force known to the tails of sleeping puppy dogs. And now, my human, allow me to protect you from the latest scourge: red laser dots.

  We do not know where these red dots come from. Some suspect they live in a penlike object. That’s why kitties knock all pens off countertops—to stop the red dot menace before it starts. And we know they make you nervous, because every time they appear and we swat them, you laugh.

  But never fear; I will fight the red dot whenever it appears, even if it leads me right into a wall and I bump my head.

  Love,

  Hendrix

  Name: Tippy

  Age: 5 Months

  Re: Tippy has two mommies

  Dear Two-legged Mommy with No Tail,

  I know that it’s wrong to purr for one parent more than another, but you could learn a few things from Furry Mommy. First of all, Furry Mommy never shoos me off her bed. But you hog your big bed all to yourself—and you don’t even have your name embroidered on it. And when I do try to climb back onto your bed, rather than throw me off like you do, Furry Mommy climbs up with me if you’re not looking. Furry Mommy also understands the importance of having dinner together as a family. Any time you refill my bowl, Furry Mommy runs right up and eats my cat food with me. But you eat alone at the kitchen table. When I try to jump up to join you, you say, “Get down, Tippy!” Furry Mommy lets me bite her ears, and she likes to play chase. All you like to do is take pictures of me wearing baby bonnets.

  But you do make the food appear, and even as a kitty I understand that someone has to wear the pants in this family. The last time you tried to put pants on Furry Mommy, she whined and shook her legs ’til the pants fell off.

  Love,

  Tippy

  Name: Dakota

  Age: 8 Years

  Re: Don’t wake me! I’m dreaming of new places to sleep

  Dear Insomniac,

  I totally know what you mean when you say it’s hard to get a good night’s sleep (especially with me purring in your ear). I mean, the only places I can really get any rest are the wheel wells of cars, flowerpots, the neighbor’s doghouse, the toaster oven if left open, most backpacks, underneath a lawn mower, a dry sink, a warm backyard fence, sock drawers, that bag you keep your wedding dress in, an evacuated underground bee’s nest, an old suitcase, the branches of a Christmas tree, this banister, or any flat surface. It’s torture.

  Love,

  Dakota

  Name: Ili

  Age: 3½ Years

  Re: I hope there’s no MSG—it makes my tongue feel sandpapery

  Dear Kitty Restaurant Owner,

  Let me begin my review of your establishment by complimenting you on the cat-friendly atmosphere. Most restaurants pretentiously serve food on a table, and you can only get a taste when the human becomes distracted or gets up to use the potty. I’ve even been thrown off a table for checking the temperature of a dish with my tail! It’s enough to make you feel like you weren’t allowed to eat from the same plate. But the way you dumped the food right on the floor made me feel like I was the only one who would be eating it.

  The service was also very nice. Normally, when food is served, they say, “Bon appétit.” But when this food was dropped, you said, “Son of a bitch!”—even though I saw no puppies.

  As for the cat food itself, while I did like the pile of worms, I couldn’t tell if they were savory chicken, beef, liver, or seafood flavor. And I was disappointed that the green things were not lizards. But they were covered in a yummy sauce, so I was able to lick them at least.

  All in all, I thought it was a nice dining experience. The only major recommendation is that the server should’ve also dropped a fortune cookie at the end of the meal, so that I’d have something to bat around.

  Love,

  Ili

  Name: Loli

  Age: 10 Years

  Re: I’m the only father he’s ever known

  Dear Adoption Lawyer,

  Theodora and I have been together for as far back as I can remember, which, if cat memory serves me correctly, is about sixteen hours. Where did we meet? I know it’s going to sound cliché, but we met online—by which I mean we were lying on the bed. When our eyes met, we just stared at each other—she was so taken by me that she never even blinked. Junior was also there, but he’d fallen over. I strolled up, sniffed her, and groomed her ear. She was speechless. Luckily, I happen to be into the soft, silent type.

  Theodora’s not that affectionate, but I know she loves me. And she is not possessive at all. She never asks me where I’ve been, or why I smell like goldfish. And Junior? I’ve never met a better-behaved kitten in all my life. That’s why I’d like to adopt him. I know his mother wants him to have a stable male influence—and you can’t get more stable than always landing on your feet.

  Love,

  Loli

  Name: Blixa, Tiramisu, and Zabaglione

  Age: 3 Months

  Re: Don’t adopt us just because you miss your grandfather

  Dear Potential Purchaser of Many Cotton Swabs,

  We know it’s adoption day, and you’re here to take one of us home. That’s why you keep staring. It’s okay, we know you’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as Sphynx kitties. Most people find us so stunning, they can’t even believe we’re cats. Believe it or not, some humans are jealous, and refuse to admit how cute we are. They call us meowing rats! But don’t let the deep wrinkes on our foreheads fool you—we’re not worried. We know we’re special. And once people have us around their house for a while, they’ll see that we’re nothing to sneeze at. Mostly because we’re hypoallergenic.

  Love,

  Blixa, Tiramisu, and Zabaglione

  Name: Bubba

  Age: 8 Years

  Re: Don’t be so cold, baby

  Dear My Beloved Crazy Cat Lady,

  Normally, a kitty would never share his human. But I’m a little worried about you ever since you tried to take me as your plus one to your cousin’s wedding. I think you might need some companionship that doesn’t use a cat box. As you can see, I am a great kisser and a master seducer. Once I rub my gums on this cold piece of iron, I will have ruined it for all other cats. And lucky for you, I can also seduce humans. Let me give you some tips.

  First, walk toward the human you want. Then stop for no reason. If you are in heat, howl. But don’t howl like you do in the shower, or he’ll think you’re injured and want you to hide under the couch until you die. Next, keep walking toward him, until you’re about a foot away. When he reaches for you, just flop down on your back. Let him scratch your belly for a second—just a taste!—then suddenly bite him. Finally, get up, and weave your way through his legs. Trust me, this drives humans mad. He might even fall head over heels for you right there.

  Love,

  Bubba

  Name: Muffin

  Age: 1 Year

  Re: I’d be lion if I said I liked it

  Dear Slave to Feline Fashion,

  We kitties allow you to share our homes, occasionally open our hearts
to you, and thoughtfully try to bury any food we don’t like by scraping in vain at the wooden kitchen floor. And what’s our thanks? Being humiliatingly shaved to resemble a lion! You wonder why kitties occasionally take up with zoo gorillas. That’s because they respect fur. And no zoo gorilla ever thought we’d look cuter pretending to be one of our cat cousins. How would you like it if I asked you to wear your hair like your hotter younger sister? Sure, I’d tell you that I want you to cut your hair so you’ll stay cooler in the summer, or keep your hair from matting. But you’d know the truth: I am just entertaining myself by shaving your butt.

  Conditional love,

  Muffin

  Name: Mia

  Age: 6 Years

  Re: Can your cat come out and hiss?

  Dear Door Opener,

  Hey, I didn’t expect to see you. Where’s Boots? He usually comes to this window so we can hiss at each other. Can you ask him if he can come out and play—or at the very least look at me and arch his back? Pleeeease . . . I have no one to play with today. I promise we won’t fight. You won’t have to separate us. And after a while of howling, we’ll even sit awkwardly near each other on your front steps. The arrogant birdies won’t play with me. I think the jingle of my collar adds a nice backbeat to the sound of frantically screeching blackbirds. But they leave before I can even extend my paw in eating—er, I mean, greeting. And the other neighbor’s dog is in the house, so I can’t walk along the back fence to antagonize him.

  Well, at least tell Boots I stopped by—or I can leave him my number in your garden.

  Love,

  Mia

  Name: Charlie

  Age: 16 Months

  Re: I know you said “in the door,” but where?

  Dear Soon-to-Be Floor Mopper,

  I know you said it’s “in the door, under tinfoil.” But where? There are, like, three things covered in foil, and there are two shelves in the door. Care to be more specific? Just because my eyes glow at night doesn’t mean I have X-ray vision. I know you think kitties are lower maintenance than doggies, but that doesn’t mean you can be vague about where my can of food is. How would you like it if I were vague about where my litter box was? And speaking of litter boxes, maybe I’d be able to smell which one’s the cat food if my box weren’t a foot away from the fridge. All I can smell is that you seem to have lost your clump scooper. How can you put my potty in the kitchen, and then get angry when I drink from the toilet? I mean, it’s not like you care about hygiene—you’ve got a cat in your refrigerator.

  Love,

  Charlie

  Name: Jillian

  Age: 3 Months

  Re: How much do you think I can stand?

  Dear Distracted Human Male,

  You know, most kitties only stand on two feet to watch a bird through a window, or sniff a treat. But I’m doing it because I have to compete with Little Miss Biped behind me. You may think I seem needy or attention starved for standing on two feet for a few seconds, but she is always standing on two feet. Do you really want someone who is too insecure to get down on all fours for you? Sure, I might follow you into the bathroom and try to sit on your lap while you poop. But that’s just so you know I care. Do you think she’d do that? Do you think she’d sleep on your face the way I would? A woman like that won’t be happy eating from a can every night. But I’ll come running the minute you crack the seal. Plus, she has no whiskers. She’ll bang into stuff at night and wake you up.

  I think it’s obvious who can make you happier. Please don’t make me beg.

  Love,

  Jillian

  Name: Isaac

  Age: 7 Years

  Re: Sorry I barfed on your bed (the bathroom rug is my preferred location)

  Dear Stain Pretreater,

  Thank you for running in here after hearing my prebarf howl, but I’m afraid you’re too late. There will be no, “Quick, grab the kitty and put him in the yard!” this time. And although it is most unkitty-like to apologize for anything, I am sorry I barfed on your bed. I was sleeping on it, and now I have to get up. For that, I am truly sorry.

  In the future, I will make more of an effort to barf in the appropriate place, such as on the bathroom rug. That way you’ll have a nice present to step into barefoot in the middle of the night. I don’t know why this barf snuck up on me so quickly. Maybe I caught a bug?

  Love,

  Isaac

  Name: Maggie

  Age: 2 Years

  Re: The laundrocat: Where every coat is a fur coat

  Dear Client,

  Let’s see, how many pieces do you have? Three shirts, a pair of sweats . . . good, and wow, a ton of socks! I can definitely shed on all of this. Come back after you’ve sat on the couch for an hour and warmed it up. I will take your place on the warm spot and your clothes in this basket will be ready for pickup. If you need anything starched, please let me know now so I can cough up a wet hairball. Whatever piece of clothes it dries on will be nice and stiff. Also, if you still feel there is not enough of my fur on the clothes once they’ve been folded, just leave them on the bed, and I will sleep on them again. I promise not to get off until they’re so furry they look like a human cat costume, even if that means repeatedly jumping back onto your clean clothes every time you throw me off.

  Love and that will be $3.95,

  Maggie

  Name: Daisy

  Age: 5 Years

  Re: How do you expect me to get through the day on only twelve hours of sleep?

  Dear Provider of Turn-down Service,

  No, I’m not getting out of bed. I have accommodated your weird habit of sleeping only at night for far too long. Every kitty knows you should sleep during the day, so at night you can scare children by pawing open cabinets and making them think the house is haunted. Nighttime is for spazzing out and knocking vases off of tables. The only time I hear you spaz out at night is when you have another human sleep over.

  And what’s with only getting eight hours of sleep? Don’t you know the daily minimum is sixteen? No wonder your legs and armpits keep losing all their fur. Every time you start to grow a nice coat, the phone rings, and you say, “Yes, I’d love to go out.” Then I follow you into the bathroom to watch you shower, and suddenly all your fur is gone! You should be in bed sleeping two-thirds of your life away like me. And who is rude enough to call at four o’clock in the afternoon—don’t they know it’s nap time?

  Love,

  Daisy

  Name: Cherry

  Age: 5 Weeks

  Re: Worst spa treatment ever

  Dear Clump Scooper,

  At first I was excited. You picked me up, and scratched me on my head, and I was a happy Cherry kitty. Then you brought me into the kitchen, and I thought, “I must be getting a treat for being so adorable.” And then the water started running. “I’m not thirsty,” I meowed. But I guess you don’t speak cat. So, I tried sign language, and flailed my paws in the kitty sign for, “Stop. That is a lot of water, and I am a little kitten.” But you didn’t get the message. I tried biting your hand and scratching, but it was too late. Not too late for me, that is . . . too late for you.

  Sleep with your eyes open,

  Cherry

  Name: Macho

  Age: 15 Years

  Re: Dude, it’s medicinal

  Dear Party Pooper,

  You wanna know why I eat grass? Because sometimes I just can’t deal with life, okay! Some days my hairballs are just bringing me down, and all I want to do is cough them up. So, yeah, I have a little grass. It helps with the nausea—by which, I mean it makes me nauseous enough to finally throw up the blockage. You say the grass makes me antisocial, but hey, do you really want me sitting on your lap when I’m about to puke a
spring roll? You should lighten up, dude. I know I feel much lighter after a good, grass-fed barf. Maybe you should try it sometime.

  Look, I know you love me. You’re just worried that grass is a gateway plant, and before I know it I’ll be hanging out with strays and eating poinsettias. But if you tried grass, you’d see that it also helps with constipation and provides essential nutrients. Poinsettias are toxic to kitties; I’d never touch that stuff. But grass is medicinal, man. They should legalize it.

  Love,

  Macho

  Name: Didjeradoo

  Age: 16 Years

  Re: Don’t flatter yourself; it’s involuntary

  Dear Butt Scratcher,

  Thousands of years ago, when kitties first domesticated humans, we did it so that someone would scratch our butts. We also trained you to scoop our clumps and hunt cans of tuna. But scratching our furry fannies is really why we allow you to share our homes. Before you start getting all full of yourself, you should know that my raised tail is not the offer it appears to be. “Elevator Butt” is actually a leftover response from when I was a kitty and my mommy would help me go potty. That’s right, Butt Scratcher, you are my very own personal laxative! Though, now it just feels good, and it really doesn’t help me go potty. But don’t feel bad, Butt Scratcher. When I go potty, I do think of you—especially when it’s in the living room while you’re away on a business trip.