Sunday, March 30, 2008

Getting an Early Start

April, as I've mentioned, has decided to be themed - Letters. 
Well.  I think I've just seen the Holy Grail.  

I've been known to write a few letters.  If you come across a post that is labeled LETTERS, you can click on it and it will show you everything I've ever labeled that way.  

Now, to flex my correspondence skills, I will write to someone who has an apology coming his way....

Dear Leo,

Oh, my boy.  Oh, little buddha bear.  We are so so sorry that you've got such a burdened life.  We both know that the only thing you need is your dad to hold you, and your mom to remember to give you the wet food every night.  That and the top of a couch in the sun is all you've ever asked for in life.  And then we introduce you to Lucy, and boy, are we sorry about that.  If cats could go to therapy, we know Lucy would be a test case for aggression.  She's a raving lunatic, and this we know, and we apologize for bringing her into your life.  Mom is sorry, because I'm sure you know that Lucy goes wherever Mom goes.  

Then we get you the Prozac.  We did this because you were peeing in the dirty laundry, and do not think that it escaped Mom's notice that you never peed in the clean.  There was that one time you peed on the bathmat, but I think the exits were blocked and I can't tell you how much I loved you for your sensitivity and your highly developed sense of what is easily laundered.  You are a champ.  You make do with what you have, and you try not to be a bother.  

And you're such a good boy with the Prozac.  You take the pills like a champ, you eschewed the chicken-flavored liquid, but even in that you were a gentleman.  You did not swing your head side-to-side while making a noise like something dying, which is what Lucy did.  Did you see her with full claws a-blazing, shredding mom and dad while she sprayed us with chicken-flavored liquid Prozac?  

I'm sure you didn't, honey.  You would have been aghast. 

What I want to apologize for, dear boy, is that your dad and I have been forgetting who is supposed to be giving you the Prozac, now that we have the treats we can slip the pills into.  And as a result, we've determined that you were double-dosed at least three times last week.  And still, you are alive and there was no drooling.

We celebrate the fact of you, Leo.  We love you dearly, we love you within an inch of your hyperesthetic life, and we would be lost without you.  Your dad named you from a Shakespeare play, Leontes, and you are the gentleman he was imagining.

Peace and much affection,

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