The Law

Dear Janet

You are a cat. Cats catch mice. This is the law. Cats catch mice by chasing them around. They do not catch mice by staring at the cooker. I am considering buying some mice from the pet shop for training purposes. I thought we could drug them or get them drunk to slow them down a bit at first. I do have slight concerns as to the morality of buying pets to drug and kill, however people do buy mice and rats to feed to snakes and if I were a mouse I think I would rather die drunk than sober. I would like to here your views on the subject.

Love from Crispin

Knuckles and Joyce

Dear Janet

I am sure you know my good friend Knuckles, he is the chap who looks like Egg out of Teachers, currently of no fixed abode, residing on our settee.  As you are undoubtedly aware he is an intellectual and on reading Joyce’s Ulysses (the real one, not the book of the cartoon that I read to you) he came across a passage in which you may find sympathy:

The Wall

Dear Janit

I wanted to talk to you again about what a frivolous waste of time it is to sit and stare at the wall for an entire day. However I do understand that it is one of your preferred pastimes and I have a suggestion: If you must stare at a blank wall – why don’t you sit a bit further back so that you can see more of it?

Hope this helps.

Love from Crispin

Newspaper

Dear Janet

As you know you are just about my favourite thing on the planet and stroking you is right up there with ‘taking off in a plane’ and ‘laughing until a bit of sick comes up’ in my top ten things to do. However I would like to stress that I am quite capable of reading a newspaper and stroking you at the same time. If you want to sit on my lap that is absolutely fine, I can still read the paper if it is beside me on the chair, it only becomes difficult to multitask when you are

Ladies

Dear Janet

I don’t think you should sulk so much on the rare occasions that I bring young ladies back to the flat.

It is unbecoming of a cat of your breeding and sophistication. I would also like to point out that I did not sulk when you would disappear for hours on end doubtless fornicating with every Tom-Cat Dick or Harry in North London.

Do let us try and be grown ups about this.

Love from

Crispin

The Lion

Dear Janet

Our flat occupies less than 1000 square feet – this is insufficient space for you to fulfil your potential as a cat. Your cousin, The Lion, commands the entire savannah as his domain, in comparison you have some original solid wood flooring and a television. Take his lead and venture further afield than the sofa I am sure you would have fun once you were out there.

Love from

Crispin

Dirty Protest

Dear Janet

I fail to comprehend why you have begun spending tuppence in the pot of the rubber plant. This is the wrong way to go about attention seeking – if you really need more love and attention than you already receive I would suggest that you do something endearing or droll and not perform any further acts of dirty protest which I find frankly abhorrent.

Come on girl – shape up.

Yours truly,
Crispin

Counting

Dear Janet

Humans can count, I believe that cats are too, capable of this. At least I am certain that you can count to one. One is the number of breakfasts that you are allowed. It really is that simple.

Love from Crispin

P.S. I remain convinced that your grace and rotundity are directly disproportional.

Sitting

Dear Janet

I have compiled a list of things to consider when choosing a place to sit:

  1. Danger of death
    Electrical appliances can prove hazardous to the resting cat especially toasters, washing machines, boilers and hobs.
  2. Danger of entrapment
    Cupboards, boxes, draws etc Humans have a habit of closing open things for the sake of tidiness – washing machines again fall into this category and should be avoided.
  3. Danger of compression
    Behind doors (be they open or closed), inside piles of stuff and under sofas are places in this category.

Hope this helps.

Love from Crispin

That Tom

Dear Janet

I want you to stop making romancey eyes at that ginger tom from down the road. I have seen him skulking about the street at night up to all sorts of mischief no doubt. I believe him to be an immeasurable oaf and frankly, he smells.

I hope this does not come between us.

Love from

Crispin