OUR KITTEN, SPARTA.
On Saturday you came home with a little surprise: a kitten.
Since Inka died and the pregnant cat we were taking care of turned out to have probably miscarried her kittens, you decided to just go get a kitten.
At first I was like "Oh, she is so cute! But I don't want a cat."
But secretly I was thinking she was probably going to suck me in with her cute cuddliness and then I wasn't going to be able to get rid of her.
Then on Sunday I was like "Why doesn't this kitten cuddle! Don't all kitten cuddle? All she does is play and attack! Why won't she lie on my lap and sleep?"
Seriously, this kitten doesn't rest. Ever. I think it is some weird breed of cat that doesn't sleep.
Then today after hours upon hours upon hours of that kitten meowing at the garage door I was like "I am going to kill that thing! I've never heard a more annoying meow in my life. If only it wasn't a creepy no-sleeping kitten then at least it would take a break from hurling itself at the garage door."
Now, I am begging you to get rid of the thing.
I know she is cute and I appreciate you trying to get a little friend for Brooklyn to play with this summer, but I can't take the meowing and the feeling bad for not letting it in and the hair all over my clothes why I try to cuddle it and the scratches on my hands from it attacking me.
So, honey, let's give her to someone else who will love her to pieces.
And because I know you won't give up: make sure the next kitten you bring home is calm and cuddly. And since I'm making requests: can you also make sure it won't shed on my clothes?
I love you. Even though you brought home a crazy kitten without talking to me first, I still love you. I might even love you more for it.