TheBanyanTree: Open Letter to Jack

[Maria Gibson]

Dear Jack,

I don't think I should have to tell you this but all signs point to the 
need for a small reminder.  Dude--you're a kitten.  You are not Godzilla 
and cannot rule Tokyo or kick Mothra ass.  You can't even conquer the 
blanket on the couch so your continued efforts to be king of the hill, 
keeper of the castle and terrorist on site seem fruitless to the casual 
observer.  I applaud the effort and the apparent balls it takes to keep 
your eye on those prizes but dude--another bit of trivia for you--the 
balls you *do* have are very tiny and due for removal very, very soon 
here.  It actually could be said to suck to be you but that is a memo 
even I, your mom, isn't willing to send your way.  I love you after all.

And while we're on the subject of what you're not, you are not a dog.  
Stop chewing up electrical cords.  Stop burping and farting at will not 
to mention all the grumping and groaning as you get comfortable.  For 
real--where is your kitten grace?  Your casual elegance and dignified 
air?  You are not representing the feline very well around here and with 
Delilah sick and trying her best just to not die, it would seem to me 
that you have an obligation to be the ultimate cat on premises.  You 
should put your personal needs behind that mission, for God's sake.  
Buck up baby, suck it up cream puff and be the kitten you were always 
meant to be.

Alright, kid, listen up to a few pointers.  I know, I know, you aren't 
likely to listen but we all have our roles.  Your's may be to spurn any 
advice your mom has to give but it is the role of the good mom to give 
the advice anyway.  Maybe it will someday penetrate that tiny head and 
even tinier brain to do you a little good.  Here goes.

The dog...?  Not your personal play toy.  Also, not your chore to brush 
him so stop combing him with your claws or if you have to keep doing 
that, could ya put the little fur tufts in the trash?  I hate them 
laying all over the place, your discards.  And another thing.  The dog 
is on a special diet and gets only three cups of food a day.  I'm sure 
he'd appreciate you not eating any of it although it seems he's a little 
afraid to tell you that himself.  He's a bit timid of you.  In fact, 
where the dog is concerned, could you just leave the poor mutt alone?  
He's got enough issues without a four pound kitten terrorizing him on a 
daily basis.

Ok, the rug in the bathroom...?  Not your nemesis.  Yeah, I know, I've 
seen some of the battles go on but, dude, the fight is all in your 
mind.  The rug is inanimate and just laying there to keep my feet warm 
so I'd appreciate you not shredding it just as the cold weather sets 
in.  Now, the socks that the boy leaves laying around are all of our 
enemy so feel free to continue dragging them around and showing them who 
is boss of this house.  Over dirty teen boy socks, it is you all the 
way, baby.  Rock on.  But my feet under a blanket?  No, not the enemy, 
stop biting me through the blanket.  It doesn't surprise me one bit to 
have found one of your baby teeth stuck in it.  If you had a baby book 
I'd have taped it down for your future perusal.  But, as I have tried to 
make clear to you, you are a kitten and therefor will not likely peruse 
anything in the future but the insides of your eyelids.  That is if, and 
only if, you ever start acting like a normal cat.

Let me make this clear.  I love you.  I will always love you 
unconditionally but it is my job to try and raise you with your best 
interests in mind.  I hope you'll know I nag with love in my heart.  You 
are without a doubt the cutest fellar ever, not to mention the softest 
and sweetest.  I love how you cry to see me and snuggle me or just lay 
next to me with your arm resting on mine.  I know you have a heart of 
gold to match your will of steel.  You'll do well, you just need a 
little instruction.

Love,
Mommy