Tuesday

My cat gets email.
Actually, my cat gets more non-spam email than I do.
My cat gets email from other cats, which I find both highly appropriate and a little odd.

Over the last week or so he’s received email explaining—in terms generally reserved for small children—what The Holidays are (after all, he did say he didn’t know), a breeding proposal (from some female feline who appears to be unaware that Max is neutered), corrections to his “grammer,” complaints about his potty mouth, and an offer from an older woman who lives in the middle of a cornfield in Iowa—she wants to take him away from the Horrible People who obviously don’t appreciate all he does for them.

I think she’s kidding.
I hope she’s kidding.

But if she’s not…Lady, we appreciate Max, we really do. It’s just that we don’t appreciate him quite as much when he’s howling his freaky little head off at 3 in the morning for no apparent reason. Or when he’s being obnoxious about wanting to be fed his dinner 2 hours early. But we appreciate him, we really do.

My ego is wounded that he has more readers to his blog than I do, and he seems to have an actual fan base…but yes, Virginia, Max is an appreciated kitty. He’s also foul mouthed (yes…he is…just read his blog), unable to fulfill any feline fantasies out there, and he really doesn’t seem to care about his “grammer.”

I don’t think I do, either.
Not that I have anything to do with that.
Nope.

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