dear cat

Oh, cat.

Cat, cat, cat.

See, I have EXACTLY, to the drop, enough patience to do the following today:

1. Talk Chicken off a ledge. (Not a turn of phrase. An actual ledge.)

2. Sing Chicken's Custom Feelings Song through Chicken's standard-issue breakfast, lunch, snack, and dinner meltdowns.

3. THIS. CONVERSATION. ALL. DAY.

"Please sit on your bottom please sit on your bottom on your bottom please sit on your bottom. Chicken. Please sit on your bottom. Chairs are for sitting. Please sit on your bottom. On your bottom. Bottom. Thank you for sitting on your-- Oh, Chicken, chairs are not for standing. If you want to stand you need to stand on the floor. Please sit on your bottom. Bottom. Bottom. BOTTOM..."

4. Take Chicken to the store.

"Would you help me put the apples in the bag? Whoops, not on the ground! In the bag please! Nononononononono, we have to pay for them before we eat them!" 

Say "uh-oh! What happened?" instead of "are you fucking kidding me" when he drops a jar of mayonnaise in the aisle.

5. Ask "how was your day?" when Ryan gets home, and actually listen to his response.

Now let me ask you, cat, do you see "pull wet clump of half-chewed-half-swallowed balloon ribbon out of cat's throat before he chokes to death on ribbon vomit" on that list? No?

Didn't think so.