Dear Cats,
Every evening when I am trying to relax, you spend hours in front of the couch chasing mice, insects and alien invaders that do not, in fact, actually exist. If we happen to dangle a string in front of you, you go berserk. If we happen to be wearing a clothing item with a dangling string, you attack us.
At this moment, down the basement, there is a very real, very large camel cricket. You are aware of this because you watched it jump on me while I was carrying the laundry. You watched me shriek and bat it away and when it landed right near you, you stared at it suspiciously.
Then, you most noticeably did not chase it. You watched it hop over to the bookcases. I believe that you were laughing at me while I tried to catch it, and again while the kids tried to smash it.
Not only that, but once I managed to escape unscathed from the basement to see who was knocking at the door, you did not bark at the Sierra Club people (and yes, we agree with them wholeheartedly about stopping drilling in Alaska, but we do not support anyone who bangs on our door asking for money).
What do I pay you for, anyway?
Love, Me
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