Letters From the Woolly Gentleman
January 2018
Dear ______ ,
Thank you for your sneaky letter. I, too, am a specialist at finding my way into the interesting places. I am especially good at getting into the refrigerator while the people-kittens hold the door open and stare at the contents.
Your attic sounds very interesting. I would like an attic. I must be satisfied with climbing into things and sitting on the windowsills. The Man shut part of me in a window once, and he and I had a terrible argument about it, fangs were used, but it was years ago and we seem to be friends now. I do not think he did it on purpose. He was preoccupied.
Once I got up on the kitchen counter to investigate a roast, but no one admired my technique. The Woman made loud funny noises, and I did the Dance of the Cute Ears and fluffed my fur up at her, even curled my tail around my toes, and all was later forgiven. I didn’t actually touch the roast, only sniffed at it, and
(MINE MINE MINE DOES SHE NOT KNOW THE ROAST BEAST IS MINE)
Goodness, what was that. Beg pardon. She gave me some bits later, and I only had to nibble on her ankle twice. She is stubborn and requires nibbling. The others fold much more easily. And they leave a great deal of mess all about the place, so there is always something to do or play with or hide in or chew on.
Do you have jobs? I have jobs. They are:
1. Eat the bugs.
2. Maintain the perimeter against all uninvited nonhumans.
3. Investigate guests.
4. Monitor the health of the people-kittens.
5. Steal all the rubber ducks.
6. Hide all the mousies so the people have to find them.
7. Guard the door until the people return.
8. Subdue all rugs, boxes, and paper bags.
9. Yodel.
The lady yodels with me. We sing Opera. She makes the most impressive squeaky noises, but can be terrible hard to wake up — why, I have to start making all my noises and rustles and clatterings two hours before breakfast, just to make sure I eat on time! Then she makes her coffee in the little hissing dragon and gives me the deliciousness, oh the sweet delectable, magnificent, puddling, white, creamy —
Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced my senses for a moment. She gave me a dab of yogurt last night and that was tasty but reminded me of the time I licked a pickle.
Now, the laptop. I used to drape myself across the old one. No one else was allowed to use it. Just me. These days she has a different one and I must climb over things and stare at her and reach across and bat her head with my paw (no claws! Never the claws, unless I am partially shut into a window, but surely that is understandable, isn’t it? And sometimes by accident when I am over-excited) and attack her fingers (how can I NOT?? they are DANCING!!) when they wiggle and tap the keys. On the other hand, she now takes dictation and lets me speak as much as I like. You must teach yours to take dictation.
Oh, the fire, the fire, the fire. We do not have a firebox. We have an oven, but she won’t let me in there, and we have the great cast iron radiators. I like to lie in front of them with my paws just underneath. But only when no one is looking. Also, the radiators… they whisper secrets… I must monitor the transmissions… I think it may be a large dragon, trying to communicate with the small dragon in the kitchen, but if it is, it is as big as the building, and I will need to formulate a plan.
As for the toys and treats, I might be persuaded to chew on a bone (I often find lovely ones in the kitchen garbage), but I think my fangs might get stuck in your rubber Christmas Pudding (a strange, strange thing, and yet, it makes me laugh). My little toy mousies make funny rattling noises and go flying around the room when I whack at them with my paws. And they slip under things and hide, and they fit in the people’s shoes.
The Woman is on to me, but does not seem flustered by it. The others think me merely a big fluffy thing to run their hands over. I can only really relax after they have gone to school. They are exhausting.
Mrrrt!
The Woolly Gentleman
