A Letter Imploring Stray Cats to Requite My Affections

Dear Stray Cats in My Neighborhood,

I'm writing you with the intention of conveying my plaguing need for affection from you all. I've tried communicating these needs to your clowder, but you've all continually rejected my advances, wrongly classifying me as a threat. I hope this letter will persuade you to change your tiny cat minds and accept me into your tiny cat lives.

Let me start off by introducing myself: I am a 25 year old female. I'm trying to be a writer but mostly I'm just poor and edit other people's writing to make a living wage. My boyfriend and I live in the building of the parking garage in Chinatown that you guys have established as your home base. You've slept on the hood of my car before. I know because you left some kitty paw prints on my windshield and they were so stinkin' cute.

Most importantly, you should know that I love all animals. More than people. I especially love cuddle muffins like dogs and cats. I do want to get this off my chest, and I don't mean to offend you guys, but I am a dog person. If you were stray dogs, this wouldn't be an issue. Dogs love me. Have you seen that video of a Corgi sliding down a spiral slide at a playground? It's adorable, you guys. The Youtube comments say that the Corgi has since passed away and that made me really sad.

I'm sure you're wondering, "If you love animals so much, why don't you get a pet?" Unfortunately, my boyfriend is allergic to many things. As you may have noticed, we get along very well and often go out to the Olive Garden, so it's a very functional relationship. We don't agree on two things, however: dishes (I like to let mine age in the sink for a few days, he likes to do them right away) and pets. Since he's allergic to cats and dogs, we aren't getting a pet anytime soon. This is the reason for my letter: I need you guys to be my surrogate pets.

Every time I pull into the garage, I call out for you guys. "Baby kitties," I say in an adorable baby voice. It's such a treat when you're all there, hanging out underneath a car: the grey, fat cat, the brown and black skinny cat, and the two baby kittens. I slowly approach, saying, "Hi little beauties," or "How are my sweet cats?" but you guys always look super pissed off and annoyed and it hurts my feelings. I'm chubby and short and pose very little threat. As instinctual animals, you should know this.

Eventually, I decided that if I fed you guys, you'd instantly love me. As the saying goes, the way to a stray cat's heart is through its stomach. At first, my boyfriend did not like this idea. I don't think he liked watching his girlfriend pick a zucchini out of her dinner leftovers and lay it on the ground while saying, "Come here lil' kitty and eat some zuc!" But I did it anyway, because I'm desperate for pet affection. I even offered you guys a peanut butter cracker recently. The brown and black cat sniffed it and determined it wasn't up to standard.

Okay. Fine. I should probably offer up cat food or tuna instead of leftover zucchini. Nobody likes leftover zucchini. But can't you smell my desperation? I need your affection. Just do one of those things where you circle my feet and rub up against my ankles. Or meow at me, or purr, or just eat the damn peanut butter cracker.

I understand your apprehension. Not everyone is as nice as me. People can be crazy and you guys are constantly fighting for your lives on the streets of Chinatown. With this letter, though, I think I have proven that I am not crazy, I am just a nice, underemployed person, and that I am very worthy of your feline love. Let me reiterate, I am not crazy.

I look forward to your reply. Good luck on the streets.

Sincerely,
Juliet

P.S. Next time you see me heading to Trader Joe's, remind me to pick up some cat food.