Sunday

Dear Max,

Ya know, I like it when you plaster yourself on my lap, especially when I'm cold and you're purring. I don't mind it when you jump up on my desk and try to head butt my hands off the keys of my laptop, and I can live with never having on fur-free clothing.

But 4 a.m. is not the time when I want to cuddle with a kitty. It's all right to plop down on top of me to steal some warmth; it's even okay if you pet my face with your clawless paw. But please...I don't want to make out with you. I don't want you to rub your face all over mine and I don't want you wiggling around, squishing the unsquishables. And I especially don't want you rubbing your lips all over mine.

Please let me sleep.

Pretty please?

Signed,
Your Can Opener

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