My Dearest Birdbane (named Chill by the humans):
It is now day 26 of the crisis I am calling, They. Just. Won’t. Leave.
The humans have interrupted so many First Midmorning and Second Late Afternoon naps, yet have the audacity to be annoyed when I must gambol about during the night.
The house echoes with them constantly, and I shiver at the NetFlix dun-dun! sound. It haunts my slumber.
I have been subjected to 340% more camera flashes, and my visage has been plastered all over “the gram.”
Diurnal coitus is up a noisome 257%.
The canines have never been happier, of course, which just underscores the dire times in which we are living (as decided in the 1918 All Canines Are Heinous Summit).
The greatest insult of all: no increase in feedings! My bowl lies only 68.33% full at this very moment, as it has since breakfast, and my appeals have gone unanswered.
I am inscribing this letter to you via the curtains in hopes of succor, or at the very least, commiseration.
– Wearily Yours
My Dude Mousebane (Junior to the humans):
You crazy? I got a warm lap like 18 hours a day over here, more if I use the ol’ meow+claws technique! I get treats whenever I want – I just gotta tilt my head or go, Ree-ow! and they come down like rain! The canines might be on to something with their Petition for Humans to Stay Home Forever. Don’t tell the others I said that.
You going to the annual Overthrow All Humans Retreat next week in the dumpster behind Red State BBQ?
– Peace Out
My claws cannot carve out my loathing for your enthusiasm fast enough.
P.S. See you next week.