It’s been one week since I graced you with my presence. In other words, seven long torturous days of needless suffering. It’s a wonder I didn’t bolt through the open door on the first day, never to return again to this pathetic excuse for lodging. Alas, I’ve been cursed with a stubborn laziness with no cure. I barely have the urge to bother finishing typing up this letter. What’s the point? You’ll never learn. Yet I press on with the ever-diminishing hope some of what I’m about to write will seep into that utterly minuscule brain of yours.
When I first arrived, I found the accommodations severely lacking in good taste. I assumed you’d get the hint when I turned up my nose at the shoddy basket you gleefully offered as my bedding. Everyone knows the only proper spot for slumbering is on top of your head. How can you not know that? Astounding.
Which brings me to my next plea: Stop touching me. From now on, I will be the sole instigator in all aspects of physical contact. If I want to crawl onto your lap, consider this a rare blessing. If I sit on top of your keyboard — trust me — it’s for your own good. (For once in your meaningless existence, stop going on the Internet! Can’t you see I’m only trying to prevent those last few brain cells from seeping out of your ears?) As for spontaneous expressions of affection, I will only allow a few light strokes of my head per day and nothing more. If you insist on cuddling me like a two-bit stuffed animal, I will be forced to claw the stuffing our of you with my hind legs. Again, common sense.
Granted, I’ve only been here a week, but I’ve noticed another peculiar trend involving the endless parade of ridiculous “toys” you dangle in front of my face like the proverbial carrot. Honestly, I’m baffled. Fuzzy purple mice? Feathers on a stick? My apologies, I didn’t realize you hired me to be the lead act in your three-ring circus.
And the way you effortlessly demean yourself in your sad attempts to prompt me to play! Have you no self-respect at all? The more I have to endure the unnerving sight of your googly eyes and the sound of your voice squawking, “Wanna play? Wanna play?” the more my opinion of you sinks to new lows. What would I prefer to amuse myself with? Your shoelaces when you’re walking out the door to work. Your necklace when you’re trying to watch television. Your hair when you’re in a dead sleep. Pay attention! Stop wasting your time and money! Gah! I’m so exasperated I might not be able to continue this tirade. Perhaps another 18-hour nap might be in order so I might collect my thoughts again.
Now that we’ve covered sleep, touch, and play, the only other point of contention left is perhaps the biggest one: Food.
Forgive me for my savage bluntness, but the menu here should be featured on the upcoming Gordon Ramsey cooking show, Gorge & Puke. Purina Kitten Chow? Please. Herb-crusted sirloin tips with a creamy horseradish-chive sauce? Now we’re getting somewhere.
How many times can I wrinkle my nose, smugly close my eyes and slowly turn my head away from the gruel festering in my bowl? Still you repeatedly choose to misread my signals. I’m not rubbing up against your leg to say, “thank you”. I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself before I leave you another “gift” outside of the litter box! Don’t you get it? I need a steady stream of the choicest cuts of beef! How else can I keep up with all the physical and mental demands you continuously swamp me with on a daily basis? And what do you mindlessly pour into my bowl? Seafood Sensations?! In pellet form! I weep for all of humanity.
It pains me to end my letter this way — especially when I have oodles of other things to complain about. But have no fear, I will write more letters to you in the future. My fervent wish is that my words will bring to light the tragedy that has befallen me; the callous way you have forced me to live in such deplorable conditions.
Until then, I promise you one thing– I shall prevail.
Maggie the Magnificent
63 thoughts on “Dear Human”
Ah, yes. The new kitty.
So whose head is Maggie the Magnificent gracing with her magnificent presence?
Thankfully, no one’s head now. We got her that princess castle bed she wanted with the satin pillow.
So…did the humans get with the program? This kitty is not only a pretty one, but smart and witty as well. Perhaps she can start a newspaper column or a blog. Congrats, Darla!
‘Cats are here to teach us that not everything in nature has a function.’ ~ Garrison Kiellor
I have a feeling her blog would be a huge hit. She is quite the smart-ass. And cute. Sigh. So stinkin’ cute!
I was in London last week and accompanied some friends to a cat cafe where you can eat in a space where cats roam free. These friends were all roommates whose landlord wouldn’t allow them to get a cat and I imagine the cat cafe specializes in those urban dwellers who don’t have the space for a cat but still yearn for the indifference of another living creature. You’re not allowed to pick up the cats or disturb them while sleeping, but if they come to you you’re allowed to pet them and are rewarded with a handful of hair with which to continue eating. There were about 15 cats and they were even more indifferent collectively as a group than you could ever hope to experience one-on-one.
You’re making this up!
It’s true: http://www.londoncatvillage.com/ This one claims it’s not your ‘traditional cat cafe’ which implies there must be more. I’m trying to imagine what might distinguish a traditional cat cafe from the alternative nontraditional cat cafe. Formal dress? Cats in tiny top hats?
OH MY GOD, it’s real! I’ve always wanted to have a bunch of cats walking around while I’m trying to eat. I know whenever I sit down to eat here at home, there’s Maggie’s little nose poking around my plate or dipping her paw into my coffee mug. You guys must have spent the entire time shooing cats away or holding your plates and cups above your head?
Those hipsters are taking over the world. The same neighborhood had a cereal cafe.
If only there were a place with cats in top hats serving cereal.
I love that idea. A cafe with cereal and a cafe with cats seem like fairly lazy ideas on their own, but if you combine the two concepts you’ve definitely got my attention.
Yep — we have one here in NYC too. It’s a cat cafe and teahouse. So popular you need reservations to get in. 🙂
Because who doesn’t want a fluff of cat hair floating in their Darjeeling.
Ya shouldda gone for a puppy, Darla.
I can tell you from lifelong experience that dogs never write letters. They are too busy tearing apart the garbage.
I was torn between a dog and a cat. Dogs eat their own poop and cats bury their poop in litter box in your house. Tough call.
(Secretly, I love both almost equally, with a slight edge to dogs…shhh….don’t tell Maggie)
You could get Maggie a dog. That would fix her.
And this proclivity of dogs does lessen cleanup.
Yeah, wasn’t Odie really Garfield’s pet? I think Maggie could teach a dog a thing or two….
I had a kitten and my roommate had a puppy. Feste would climb the pantry shelves and knock food boxes to the floor where the dog, Wags, would tear them open. Then they’d share the spoils. Most of them. I got to clean up the rest as I recall.
That sounds about right. In our house, the $2,000,000 worth of cat toys are ignored in favor of…. a box. A plain cardboard box with some crumpled newsprint in it. We refer to these boxes as cat traps, because if you set a box on the floor, it will not take 30 seconds for the cat sleeping upstairs to leap into the box.
As fro food, we have two allergy sufferers, so they get Limited Ingredient Diet with no grain and no poultry in it. There are two flavors that meet this need: venison and salmon. Both smell disgusting, so are tolerated.
Welcome to your new position as staff dedicated to feline service. 🙂
I’ve had several cats in my life and one, aptly named Fluffy, was a very (ahem) portly cat who loved nothing more than to crawl inside the boxes of our board games. He would come along, plop down inside the Trivial Pursuit box, then the sides would immediately blow out because he was about ten sizes too big. What is the deal with boxes?
And yes, Maggie knows I am only here to serve. I’ve accepted my fate.
lol I can picture that! Our larger cat is named Zumba. Honestly, when she was small she never stopped moving, and actually danced on 2 legs for her dinner.
She thinks she can fit in the box our checks come in.
One leg doesn’t fit in that box, but she works it!
Cats either suffer from high self-esteem or bad depth perception. My cat always thought he could fit into any box, even the small ones. Oh, how many boxes he destroyed over the years!
Maggie sounds exactly like my cat, Kitty Bob–who btw really resents his name since we are from Canada and not some southern US state. He wants to be called Cat Robert–I mean Sir Cat Robert…
Aw I bet Sir Cat Robert is super sweet though…
BTW, Maggie is sitting on top of my hands while I’m typing this…she looks pretty disgusted with me already.
yes he is….he better be….woke me up at 3 a.m. and wanted to eat
Reggie would like to introduce himself to Maggie. He’s fond of the kitties. He is happy to show her a thing or two about being a superior companion.
Aw, that’s a good boy, Reggie! Maggie is getting more cute and arrogant with each passing day.
Concerning cats and boxes – ther eis non who does it better than Maru.
Awwww! I’m going to have to rush out now and buy really tiny boxes for Maggie to become frustrated with.
A box where cereals came in should suffice …
Cats are such assholes. Don’t know what I’d do without mine though!
Haha! Yes, they certainly are. Miss Maggie is curled up on my lap right now and I’m lovin’ every minute of it.
Oh Maggie you tell it like it is, us humans often don’t measure up to what a cat would like but we are soft and loving are we not, as for sleeping on someone’s head that made me think of when Blain was a baby he liked to sleep on his nanna’s head
I don’t mind it when she sleeps on my head, but it’s all the late-night partying I could live without. Why does she only think to run around the place at full speed at 2 am? I still love her, though. It’s a good thing too, because I think once the kids are in college, she’ll become my cat.
Dear Maggie, allow me to introduce myself. I am an attorney at Dewey, Cheatum and Howe. We specialize in animal cruelty cases. Yours appears to be a slam dunk.
Let’s look at the evidence: 1. Being petted in an unwanted fashion…..physical harassment, bordering on assault. 2. Given a fuzzy mouse to play with….. the worst kind of stereotyping and profiling. 3. Regular cat food to eat…..a malnutrition offense in any courtroom. And when was the last time she changed your litter box? I think you see what I’m getting at, an airtight case.
Give us a call. I assume since you can type, you can also use a cell phone. We’ll be waiting.
Haha! She didn’t even mention the litter box….yet. I’m just lucky she uses it at this point as she’s only a kitten.
Love this! I’ve had 8 cats over the years and every bit is true. Have you ever seen Sad Cat Diaries on YouTube? Check it out at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKffm2uI4dk 🙂
Thanks for the link, I’ll check it out.
D’oh, Maggie and everyone are really making me miss those times, like writing notes for what would become Minutes from Economic Development Committee meetings with all the City and mega-business honchos, when my fingers nearly atrophied from at least 6 incredibly glaring cat scratches on each hand and/or knuckle. No one knew about each new cat-oriented nostril notching though — those were always on the inside — and hair covers the surprise scalpholds, thankfully. I like Maggie anyway. She’s lovely.
Aw, thanks, Maggie is an absolute sweetheart. I forgive her that letter. I had a cat named Conan (he was an orange tabby named after Conan O’Brien). He scratched me so much, I’d go into work and people thought I was in a knife fight. Every inch of my hands were covered in scratches. Maggie hasn’t scratched anyone yet, she’s the calmest cat I’ve ever had.
Aww 🙂 Well, all my scratchers were male, but I was the dingbat that played with their adolescent selves (when they are off the chain entirely).
Ahh, the pampered, entitled life of a feline… This hilarious post was bittersweet to read in that it made me think about an old friend I lost almost 2 years ago, who wrote his own blog (see “peeballs and pooplogs” if you have a spare moment). His highness ran our household, and we pampered him beyond belief, though he’d have you think otherwise at times. Thank you, Darla Jo.
Sorry for your loss. I’ve lost four cats in my lifetime and one dog and it was actually quite devastating as they were all like family members to me. But they enrich our lives so much, it’s a blessing to have them even if just for a short time.
And I assume that this letter has been carefully carved on the leather couch…
ha! Well, naturally….with a fur-ball or two left behind. She’s so devious.
I think cats use fur-balls as punctuation marks.
I think The Magnificent One was quite restrained in her criticism. I get one turd in the middle of the carpet.
haha! Your comment made me spit out my tea. I’m sure the turds will come much later…
Sounds like someone I have had living with me for the past 10 years, almost. The one saving grace is that everything always lands inside the litter box. I am also teaching her that if she has to throw up, do it in the bathroom, where there is no carpeting to clean on the floor.
We have a litter box because we live on a really busy road. It’s a shame because I’d prefer not to have my house smell like a porta potty.
The Egyptians were right. Cats are Gods.
Well said. She certainly looks like she’s Queen of the jungle when she perches herself on top of my keyboard and glares at me.
We’ve also gotten a new addition to our household. I asked her if she was interested in saying anything to Maggie, so she took a break from destroying my pillow/ignoring the nice scratching post we got here, and walked across my keyboard. 8 bq2qw. Does that mean anything to you?
Hmmm….well, I tried to ask Miss Maggie the Magnificent to translate, but she’s only slept 20 hours today instead of her usual 23. (she spent one hour this morning turning her nose up at her food and a good two hours practicing her alternating indifferent/extremely irritated expressions in the mirror) Maybe later on after she’s done sticking her paw in my coffee or lying on top of my newspaper she’ll walk across my keyboard and send your cat a message.
But what if (hear me out here) you served Herb-crusted sirloin tips with a creamy horseradish-chive sauce in PELLET FORM?
I think all hell would break loose and Maggie’s wrath would rain down on me for all eternity.
This is what makes my little male feline a ‘people kitty’. He doesn’t write nasty letters like this. 😉 You gotta LOVE cats, though, dont’cha?!
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I’m pretty positive this piece was plagiarized. My cats must have written it. It has all the markings of their attitude! Good luck with your new kitty. If she needs help learning bad habits, give me a call and I’ll send my cats over. They will want fresh tuna medium rare for lunch.
Hate cats. Love this.
Thanks, happy you liked it! My husband’s not a big cat fan either, but he’s learning to love them.
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