Turkey for a tree

A cat typing at a computer.
Illustration by Vanessa Lennon

Dear Ethan,

HMPH. I am not pleased. Not only did you not give me a place at the table, but you had the nerve to shut me in a room while your grandmother’s stupid dog was at the house! An invader, an INTRUDER, comes to MY home and you expect me to hide?!? I could take down that 70 pound baby, no problem!

Admit it! You were scared I was gonna pulverize that stupid, slobbery creep! And what is the deal? That dog put slobber everywhere! It was on your clothes and on the walls—it was even on the piano! You said it was a boxer, but there is no way that thing can box! It would slip in its own slime! YECH!

Despite the horror of that situation, you have put a new tree in the living room. The lights make my eyes go wide as I stare at them. It’s like they are calling to me, signaling me in for a landing as they blink on and off and back on again. This gift pleases me.

I am also pleased by the many bright toys you have hung for me. The balls and little creatures on strings are not as delicious as the tree is, but they have possibilities. I was able to bat at some of them, but I would like more please/thank you/NOW.

Fish flavored ornaments would be greatly appreciated. You owe me after the turkey thing. By the way, that “so called” Rat King from the Nutcracker did not taste like rat AT ALL. False advertising!

Get to work on those ornaments and I will forgive you!

P.S. Why is your mom claiming the new ornaments are shatterproof? Trust me, they’re not!


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