From the Cat about the Dog

To: Large Human Resident of My Home
From: Her Royal Highness, Princess Feline
Subject: The burdens I must bear

You are my most senior staff member, and by "senior" I mean, of
course, "oldest," because I hold both of your daughters in much higher
regard. This position means you have certain responsibilities,
responsibilities you are not living up to.

Naturally, I am speaking about the dog, who has recently written a
cowardly memo to you in an attempt to spark a revolt in the household.
It was your duty to administer swift and preferably capital
punishment to the insubordinate animal, and your dismal failure in the
matter has led me to craft this letter. This forces me to do
something I am utterly loathe to do--acknowledge your existence. I
must warn you that as a result, I am putting a copy of this memo in
your personnel file.

This whole matter is most unseemly, as the dog lacks standing to
register a complaint of any kind. This is an animal who, when
excited, attempts to make love to the sofa--an animal who, when
allowed outside, rewards us by defecating in our yard!

How often, I ask you, have we been enjoying a lovely evening of our
favorite activity--sitting in front of the television in the family
room, everyone taking turns stroking and worshiping me--only to have
this mutt release a gaseous emission that brings tears to our eyes and
screams of anguish from your children? Of course, you yourself are to
blame here for the bad example you set with your own flatulent
behavior. In fact, there is such a strong link between your initial
discharge and the dog's follow-up volleys that I've come to think of
them as "sympathy farts." You'll never catch a cat performing such an
indelicacy. In my view the both of you should be banished to the
deck--you can watch television and me through the window.

His tendency to bark at the most routine event--such as the ringing
of the doorbell (is this supposed to be some sort of warning? We all
heard the doorbell, for goodness sake!) is most perturbing, as it
interferes with my hobby--bird watching. (I've been observing the
birds in the feeder for more than a year now, and have determined that
most of them can be classified as "edible.")

The only function at which the animal excels is as a pillow for my
mid-late afternoon nap, and sometimes for my early late afternoon nap
as well. Yet even at this he often fails, falling into a restless
state full of leg-twitching and soft yipping. (I know you think he is
dreaming of chasing rabbits, but nothing could be further from the
truth. You know what he is dreaming of? Running from cats, and well
he should. He knows he's in serious trouble with me, you can tell by
the way he slinks around in my presence.)

As a species, canines represent a broken rung on the evolutionary
ladder. Have you ever seen two or more of them mingle together? They
sniff each other in unmentionable places, then race over to lift their
legs on the bushes, proudly strutting around as if they've caught a
mouse or something, when all they've done is urinate on target.

Even worse: I think the fool canine actually likes me. It's probably
because I am so beautiful; but have you ever thought about what it is
like to be licked by that tongue? It's like being wiped down with a
drooling carpet.

In short, the dog has done nothing but cause trouble ever since I,
its replacement as the most beloved animal in the house, arrived to
take the throne. This attempt to violate the chain of command and
appeal to you to stage some sort of peasant uprising is just the
latest affront. We would be much better served if we replaced him
with a pet we would all find more enjoyable and fun.

May I suggest a family of free-range gerbils?
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Copyright W. Bruce Cameron 2004 http://www.wbrucecameron.com/