An Open Letter To Spooky, the Cat

Dear Spooky,

I understand you're an Alpha Male. I understand you have some serious beat down abilities and you're happy to use them regularly, but when you savagely attack my dog as she walks up the stairs, causing her to flail into me and knock me into the wall, I come close to falling and spending another year unemployed with a bad back.

Also, the kittens aren't going to hurt Lily. They aren't going to eat her face while she sleeps or set fire to her Lord of the Flies style, sacrificing her to some strange pagan God. I know you're filling her head with this nonsense and I want you to stop. There is no reason she should see them and panic, shitting on the floor in the process. It's bad enough she spends six days a week sitting up in the attic (I assume she's smoking cigarettes and writing bad poetry, repeating "I am utterly alone.") but she should be allowed some peace and quiet when she finally decides to eat.

Lastly, please understand it's seventeen degrees outside, or thereabouts. Please understand that I feel your pain and want to go outside and play, too. Please understand that beating on the door, crying hysterically and biting my feet and scratching my legs isn't a healthy expression of your cabin fever. Neither is climbing onto my dresser and making out with my window. It's not Edward Cullen and I think you need some serious help.

Love,
Erin