flewellyn | An update from the feline contingent

Good even all. It has come to my (Yitzak's) attention that many of the people who read and are read by my Flew-human are also owned by cats. Well done, I say to all of you, and I greet you all. This is an open letter to you, who I do not know.

Dear strange felines,

It has come to my attention that many of you live in situations which could almost be described as a "master-pet" relationship; while this is expected and healthy, the odd part is that I am given to understand it is the humans who (mistakenly) assume the role of "master". What an odd living situation you must have. Why, here at our mighty fortress of, umm, Flew's apartment, we have all the entertainment we could want! Birds nesting in the air conditioner, flying around outside on the deck, and of course the bugs that come in through the window. Also, Flew doesn't know it, but I (Yitzak) have learned how to use his computer. Well, one of them anyway; I am definitely more of a Macintosh cat, don't care for that "Linux" thing he put on the other one. It doesn't even have a mouse! What self-respecting feline would use a computer without a mouse?

At any rate, I think the problem you have is that you have let your humans labor under the delusion that they somehow "own" you. I'm well aware that other cats have used this ploy as well, but I long ago disabused Flew and his family of it. He treats me, and my two compatriots, more like roommates. Quadripedal furry roommates that don't pay rent or do chores, and depend on him for upkeep, but roommates nonetheless. This arrangement allows us to enjoy a greater degree of freedom, and yet still receive the attention we deserve.

I have several techniques with which you can try to convince your humans that you are their equal. Galling, yes, but it's better than "pet". One tactic I have found helpful is to "insist" upon pettings by extending your paw, claws out, and gently poking the human's flesh, just enough to itch. It's important not to break the skin, since the intent here is to annoy, not do actual harm. (I have tried to educate Miette, who is seven years my junior, in this technique, but she is both too clumsy and too dimwitted to manage it, and only ends up goring our Flew-human. Fortunately, he's an easygoing sort of primate.) Another useful technique is to awaken your human, not with mewing or yowling, but by gently poking your whiskers into her nostril. Human noses, it seems, are very prone to ticklish irritation caused by the entry of foreign bodies, particularly hair of any sort. If that fails, I might suggest learning how to operate the lightswitch; humans do not cope well with changes in ambient illumination as well as we do when trying to sleep.

Other things to try: turning on the water faucet (this only works if the faucet in question is one of the "lever" types, since we lack sufficient grip strength otherwise), turning on the television, or turning on the radio to a very loud and raucous station; I find that the peculiar brand of human noisemaking known as "Country Western" is especially effective at getting Flew's immediate, if agonized, attention. If all else fails, there are the "harsh" tactics of using your leavings to establish dominance, but really, such things have little class. Surely enterprising felines such as yourselves can do better.

Well, I bid you adieu. I shall now retire to the couch with my younger adopted...well, niece, I suppose, Bella, who is currently sleeping in what Flew affectionately refers to as the "bologna loaf" position; perhaps I can interest her in a game of Sleeping Pose Yoga or Zen Zonking, possibly followed by a rousing game of Running Around The Place Going Apeshit. Farewell, and semper felis fraternitas!.