Lucky for you and your nine lives

Dear Harrison

I know I went away and left you alone in the house for a week. I'm very sorry. I would remind you that I did organise for a very nice lady to come in and feed you and fill up your water every day. She even told me that you sat with her on the lounge while she did some reading and kept you company. With all that in mind, I do not see why you chose to throw up on my lounge at some point today while I was at work as some kind of weird punishment for perceived neglectfulness on my part. Lucky for you and your nine lives I have a throw over aforementioned lounge. I am now washing it and I would appreciate it if such behaviour could cease and desist immediately. So I went away for a while. Build a bridge young man. Build a bridge.

Sincerely
Wendy
(your "owner")

the ugliest hand painted craft market vase in the world is no more

Dear Harrison

Notice the formality of my greeting to you. The reason for this is the seriousness of this letter. I hope one day you will learn to use your little grey paws to open Firefox and navigate your way to this blog, in order that you understand the full ramifications of your behaviour.

Here are two things I would ask that you cease:

1. Attacking any and all flowers that make their way into this house. This includes both real and fake flowers, flowers that have been given to me, flowers from the garden, single stemmed roses, huge thank you mixed bunches. The only reason you got any dinner this evening was that in eating the rose that I thought I had cleverly hidden in my bedroom all week, you managed to break the ugliest hand-painted craft market vase in the world.

2. Eating lizards and then throwing up on the floor. This is just plain gross and if I had discovered it before the breaking of the ugly vase there would have been a lot more crankiness.

If any of this behaviour continues, we may have to renegotiate our shared living arrangements. This could well involve less time for you to loll about on the lounge, much less playing in the wooden venetians and no climbing up the screen doors in search of elusive geckoes.

Regards
your faithful servant

Wendy