To My Dear Friend

Dearest Balthazaar,

For the past 7 years we have been close, weathering the ups and the downs, facing the unknown together. You've been loyal and loving, but unfortunately, unless your behavior changes drastically, I may no longer be able to call you my best friend. I know that your psyche is delicate and easily damaged by stressful events, but you have truly gone off the deep end, and it is time you had a little help in reigning yourself back in.

First of all, although I love you, this does not mean that I want your company while I pee. That is not an appropriate time for cuddling. Licking magazines is also not a suitable past time for the bathroom. Nor are leaping from behind the shower curtain towards my face, or turning the door knob repeatedly. Please don't take it personally when I lock you out; plaintive cries will not increase your chances of being allowed in the bathroom.

I know that you crave my company in the morning, but the first thing I want to hear in the morning is not the thump of your body running into my door frame, or the sounds of your claws frantically scratching at the hinges. This is both ineffective and weird. Eventually I will indeed emerge from my bedroom to feed you and give you some attention, I promise. Just be patient.

It seems to wound you deeply when my father and I lock you out of our rooms while we are trying to get work done, but to be frank my dear, you are annoying. Sitting on my head, rubbing your teeth on my legs, and knocking over everything that you can reach are not activities that promote good work and study habits, or increase my regard for you. Dad feels the same way.

You've made it clear that life as a house cat is difficult, but surely you can find more productive activities? The boxes around the house and the strange people removing our furniture do not signify your abandonment. Oh no. You're coming with us. So just sniff your cat-cheek pheromone spray, chill out, and prepare for the move.

All my love,

Lars