When we first met, I probably didn’t make a very good impression. I tried to pick you up without realizing how dense you were, and I nearly dropped you. Coupled with the fact that you are very particular about how often you are picked up and how you are held and the length of time you are retained in someone’s arms, this was likely a pretty stressful experience for you.
For that, I apologize.
Pixie, I think that our relationship has been doomed from the very start. Unfortunately for you, we didn’t really become properly acquainted until your mother whisked you out of the home you’d known for most of your life and plopped you in a new residence with two new people who inhabited that new residence with you.
While your mommy and daddy tried very hard to make you comfortable in this new home, I was more concerned with where the fuck your sister Sookie was hiding because I was actually concerned I’d let her out of the apartment whilst I was bringing stuff in on moving day. Thankfully, Sookie is just a bit mentally deficient and had holed herself up in various nooks and crannies around the new apartment while her tiny brain wrapped around the idea of acclimating to a new home.
But I digress.
Pixie, it probably didn’t help when I brought another cat home to live with us. You were finally settled into your new home and were probably just getting used to the idea that I probably wasn’t leaving anytime soon. You weren’t happy about this, but you were finally settling into acceptance.
And that’s when Marnie entered your life. I know it’s difficult whenever you have a new sister cat (or cousin cat, I still haven’t figured out our little family tree) in the house. It probably doesn’t help when said sister cousin is much younger and more playful than you are. Just because she wants to romp around and jump on you does not mean that you want to romp around or be jumped upon. I understand this, but I think you’re just going to have to concede on that.
For all of my transgressions, I am very sorry. That is heartfelt and comes from deep within my soul.
However, I don’t think I’m the only problem. As with any relationship, there needs to be an equal give and take in order to smooth out any rough patches. And I have not seen any give from you — only take. Take, take, take.
You take the food that I give you. You take a lot of that, in fact, because you are fat. Your mother (my dear roommate) does not like it when I call you fat. She will then insult your sister cousin for also being fat, though I must continually assert that Marnie is only slightly chubby whereas you, Pixie, are fat… fat, fat, fat.
Maybe I’m not helping our relationship by calling you fat — but you are not helping our relationship by recoiling from me petting you, hissing at Marnie, and being generally cantankerous.
Seemingly, the only way to solve our discord is for us to simply ignore each other. If we simply live our own lives — separate, but together — we may be able to forge a home of harmonious tranquility.
It is going to take some time, some hard work, and a lot of you refraining from ever doing this again:
And, on my end, I will stop my friends from annoying the shit out of you. Although, to be fair, it really is way too damn easy.