Letter to the cat

Dear Apollo,

Well, you’re officially about eight months old. Somewhere around that. I think we’ll keep your birthday in August, however, as you came to us in August.

It’s been a wild eight months, from you getting fixed to your sister going missing to you growing into this beautiful, fuzzball who loves being held and petted. You’re such a beautiful cat. Feisty and beautiful. However, we need to have a little discussion about two of your bad habits.

One. Stop sneaking in the house. I get it that you’re super talented at sneaking by us when we come inside or are outside watching the dog do her bizness. I get that apparently you’re proud of these accomplishments. And this is perfectly fine if we see you sneak in, and have to chase you down. You like being chased, and while I’m not super happy to do so, it’s not really a problem.

HOWEVER. It is a problem when you sneak by when no one notices and you stay inside with us unaware. Believe it or not, it’s a little unnerving to be reading on the couch and see you slink up the stairs like a black ghost. It’s even more unnerving to come home after a run and have you greet me inside my house. You’re crafty, little cat, but you don’t need to be.

I know you don’t want to stay indoors. Every time you come in, you’re always a little nervous, making sure the door is open so you can make a quick getaway. So why are you allowing yourself to get trapped inside?

Also, let’s talk about your buddies Frank and Garfield. Sure, we probably shouldn’t have named the possum or the orange cat, but they seem to come around so much that it seemed appropriate that they have names. And, yes, I might have spray painted Frank brown, practically signaling to everyone that he is my possum. And he can come around and look around – but why is he eating your food? I was more than a little stunned when I went outside last night to turn your heating pad in your house on and leaned down in the darkness to pet you – and realized I almost petted Frank!!! (By the way, I don’t think he wants to be petted.) Garfield is just as bad. Yes, I know the lady across the street tried to make me adopt him as a replacement for your sister, but I don’t want him. You fight with him on occasion, and that makes me not like him. But when I held you in the doorway and Garfield came RIGHT UP to me and meowed…that’s when I realized that he thinks he’s my cat, too. And it doesn’t help that Vicki doesn’t chase him anymore, but I’ll deal with her later.

Vicki. You two seem to have a love-hate relationship. She really does love you…as long as you’re not hiding in the leaves waiting to pounce her. But it’s so hard to discipline you for that, especially when your daddy and I are dying out laughing. You know what? I’m okay with that. She runs faster than you, and it’s not like you’re jumping out to hurt her anyway. You’re just playing.

At any rate, let’s work on not sneaking inside and not letting the neighborhood riffraff eat all your food. I have one outdoor pet, and it’s you. Love you, sweet Apollo!

Love, your human mom