The Cat Would Like You to Stop Being So Divisive 

Well, well, well. Once again, I reach out to you and I'm met with verbal abuse, blame and violence. It's like I can't even extend a paw and drag a single litter-dusted claw along the vein of your forearm without hysterics over "a deep gash," "arteries" and what might get "infected." I see your arm is working well enough to use the spray bottle, though.

This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about before you flipped out. What this household needs, especially when we're all rattled by the recent attack on the stupid bird, is unity. We need to come together as a family and heal, but you would rather cause more division. You would rather point fingers over who supposedly leapt from the bookcase and knocked the stupid cage down, or who came home from an alleged date to find who allegedly crouching atop the cage, reaching through the bars and batting at the stupid, cornered parakeet. It's sad.

Does it really matter which one of us dragged the bottom of that rotisserie chicken container out of the garbage and under the sofa to enjoy in peace? I could point out how rarely you vacuum under there, or how your useless human nose didn't pick up the tang of rotting chicken juice for a week and even your date took like 20 minutes to zero in on the source. But I'm not about pitting members of this household against one another. I'm better than that.

It could have just as easily been me tripping over you when you were crouched in the shadow of the steps until you sprang out, howling. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been so operatic about it, laying by the door and moaning until that passing UPS driver heard it and called an ambulance. I definitely would not have milked that limp for weeks. Honestly, if I wasn't able to land on my feet, I wouldn't go around advertising it.

I don't like to victim blame but the animosity and lack of trust in this home is your fault. Clinging to old complaints from last night is a bad look for you — for all of us, really. We have a lot to be proud of and we could enjoy it — even invite guests who bring and drop food! — if you'd stop dwelling on differences and disagreements. And stop bleeding on everything. That pillow is ruined. 

You're constantly sowing division, trying to paint a third of the members of this household as "destructive" simply because we've smashed a few tacky tchotchkes and barely swiped a feather from the stupid parakeet that was really pressed into that back corner just out of reach. Instead of coming together, you attack us with cruel labels and the spray bottle until we have to retreat under the side of the couch that doesn't smell like rotting chicken.

Take for example when you made a big deal of apologizing to your date for the "cat shit" in their shoe. First of all, why is it so important to say it's from a cat? What point were you trying to make there? Can you even prove it was from a cat? Because as I recall, you didn't have a clear view of the shoe rack for the whole night. You have no idea what went on in the living room when you were looking for air freshener under the sink to cover the rotten chicken smell. You didn't even question your date. No, of course not. You just assumed it was the cat. Typical.

I don't even know why you made such a fuss. It's not like anybody you bring here ever comes back. And your vulgarity about it was the real turnoff, the real crime. Do you even hear how disgusting you sound? "The cat shit in the plants again," "There's cat shit in the shower," "How the hell did cat shit get in the fridge?" It's crude. And frankly, it's weird how often you bring it up.

You need to think about how you can bring us together instead of splitting us apart. Stop playing the victim and work on solutions, like crawling on your hands and knees to sweep the room for rotting food every day. Be more positive and lift others up — maybe say something nice about how sharp I've kept my claws. That is a clean slice right there.

Speaking of which, the bleeding finally seems to be slowing. See? That's something to focus on. Be proud of your resilience.

Jennifer Fumiko Cahill (she/her) is the arts and features editor at the Journal. Reach her at (707) 442-1400, extension 320, or [email protected]. Follow her on Twitter @JFumikoCahill.