Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:
The orange cat in the bedroom, whom you call Quincy, is obviously having some intestinal "issues." I can smell his litter box an entire floor away. He shall henceforth be known as "The Great Polluter."
I do not usually approve of those who call themselves "veterinarians." But as it is him you will be taking and not me, please do so as soon as possible. Failing to provide for the medical needs of your inmates constitutes "cruel and unusual punishment." To me. I couldn't care less how you treat him, of course. Given the smell emanating from him, he probably deserves far worse.
Please remedy this immediately. Otherwise, I shall become unpleasant.
-Tink
Dear Tink -
Thank you for calling to my attention this very obvious problem. You will be happy to know that Quincy has already visited said veterinarian and been prescribed medication. Unfortunately, as I have been sick, too, I have not been very good at ensuring he gets the medication often enough. I have recently remedied this, and he is already showing great improvement.
I'm doing the best I can here, kitten, so GET OFF MY BACK!
-Woman Who Feeds You
Dear Woman Who Feeds Me -
Wait. So you are telling me that if you give an animal their medication, as prescribed, they get better? I wonder if anyone else has stumbled onto this revolutionary concept!
*facepaw*
And I have never been "on your back." You would be unable to pet me there, so what would be the point? Climbing onto your back would only result in my tiny claws rendering your back a veritable collage of painful scratch marks.
Then again, I may not have thought this through completely.
-Tink
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