Dear Tink:
I really thought having you spayed would help you calm down. Instead, you appear to be running rampant through the house, at all hours of the night, looking for your lost uterus. I can assure you, it is not in my purse. Nor is it in the kitchen cabinets, the refrigerator, the dishwasher or under the blanket I use when I am asleep.
Also, I saw you take that $10 bill out of my purse. It is not a toy. Stop chewing it up and sliding it across the floor. And I sincerely hope you are not stealing money to spend on more catnip. You need to admit that you have a problem.
If I could figure out how, I would ground you.
-Woman Who Feeds You (and who really needs all the dollars in her purse)
P.S. Hugh Jackman - It's time you started supporting this blog, as it is obviously providing you invaluable publicity. Please send money. Tink is eating all of mine.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
January 25, 2014 3:57 p.m.
Dear Loyal Followers:
I realize many of you have been concerned with my recent lack of blog posts. I am embarrassed to admit that I suffered a bout of writer's block. Please know that this had absolutely nothing to do with Woman Who Feeds Me's extended absence from the household. Strange Man said she was somewhere in "Florida." I assumed this was where humans go to die.
But I was certainly not depressed; nor was I drowning my sorrow in a cloud of gin and opiates. Although, Strange Man did offer me some; but I suspect it was merely an effort to further restrain me. I do not like him.
Woman Who Feeds Me has now returned. Though I am totally indifferent to her presence, I do prefer her to Strange Man.
Much has happened over the past 3 weeks. I will endeavor to recount all of the events in my coming posts.
Thank you for your patience and continued loyalty.
-Tink
I realize many of you have been concerned with my recent lack of blog posts. I am embarrassed to admit that I suffered a bout of writer's block. Please know that this had absolutely nothing to do with Woman Who Feeds Me's extended absence from the household. Strange Man said she was somewhere in "Florida." I assumed this was where humans go to die.
But I was certainly not depressed; nor was I drowning my sorrow in a cloud of gin and opiates. Although, Strange Man did offer me some; but I suspect it was merely an effort to further restrain me. I do not like him.
Woman Who Feeds Me has now returned. Though I am totally indifferent to her presence, I do prefer her to Strange Man.
Much has happened over the past 3 weeks. I will endeavor to recount all of the events in my coming posts.
Thank you for your patience and continued loyalty.
-Tink
Thursday, January 23, 2014
January 23, 2014 10:33 p.m.
She prefers Coleco Vision. As does the Woman Who Feeds Her.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Monday, November 25, 2013
November 25, 2013 1:44 p.m.
Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:
It has not gone unnoticed that I am completely without suitable material for my Tinker-Tatters decor AND my Tinker-Tissue Toys. I have been unable to secure a single dirty kleenex, roll of toilet paper, paper towel, paper bag or piece of tissue paper in the last week. I know you are hiding them. This is unacceptable.
You will tell me where they are located immediately or I shall begin shredding the mail. I am not above using Tinker-Torture to secure this information. I am sharpening my Tinker-Talons. And waiting.
Speaking of Tinker-Torture, please tell Strange Man to stop trying to teach me this thing called "Patty Cake." It is a ridiculous game, and anyone who would make a cake out of someone named Patty is seriously disturbed.
-Tink
It has not gone unnoticed that I am completely without suitable material for my Tinker-Tatters decor AND my Tinker-Tissue Toys. I have been unable to secure a single dirty kleenex, roll of toilet paper, paper towel, paper bag or piece of tissue paper in the last week. I know you are hiding them. This is unacceptable.
You will tell me where they are located immediately or I shall begin shredding the mail. I am not above using Tinker-Torture to secure this information. I am sharpening my Tinker-Talons. And waiting.
Speaking of Tinker-Torture, please tell Strange Man to stop trying to teach me this thing called "Patty Cake." It is a ridiculous game, and anyone who would make a cake out of someone named Patty is seriously disturbed.
-Tink
Friday, November 15, 2013
November 15, 2013 6:21 a.m.
Dear Tink:
This morning, I was awakened at 6:02 a.m. (far too early for a woman who does not have to go to work), by the sound of you digging in my purse. You quickly pulled out a dirty kleenex (I'm not proud) and began chewing it up. This is a disgusting habit. Far more disgusting than me keeping dirty kleenex in my purse.
After taking said kleenex away from you, and putting it in the zipped portion of my purse (again, I'm not proud, but I was sleepy and the trash can was an entire room away), I attempted to go back to sleep. I immediately heard the sound of more digging. When I looked down, you had extracted from my purse yet another dirty kleenex. I sighed in exasperation, grabbed my purse and began searching it for dirty kleenex. I removed all the dirty kleenex from my purse (seriously, there weren't that many), and threw them away.
When I came back into the room, I discovered you playing. With another dirty kleenex. WHERE ARE YOU FINDING THESE THINGS?? And more importantly, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM???
At this point, I can only assume you are manifesting them yourself. And if you are capable of manifesting things, please start manifesting your own food and water. And someone to clean your litter box. And Hugh Jackman. If you can get Hugh Jackman to clean your litter box, well I guess that's one less thing.
Although you seem to prefer dirty kleenex, I did also find you with your head in the kleenex box last night. I can only assume you were attempting to pull the unused kleenex from the box. This is obviously some sort of karmic payback, as I used to do the same thing to my mother when I was a baby. So I suppose I can't be mad at you for that, as karma is, in fact, a bitch.
But you really do need to stop with the dirty ones. It is gross.
And please stop chewing up my shoes. That is something dogs do. It is beneath you.
You are about to be in Tinker-Trouble.
-Woman Who Feeds You (And is Tired of Cleaning Up the Dirty Kleenex)
This morning, I was awakened at 6:02 a.m. (far too early for a woman who does not have to go to work), by the sound of you digging in my purse. You quickly pulled out a dirty kleenex (I'm not proud) and began chewing it up. This is a disgusting habit. Far more disgusting than me keeping dirty kleenex in my purse.
After taking said kleenex away from you, and putting it in the zipped portion of my purse (again, I'm not proud, but I was sleepy and the trash can was an entire room away), I attempted to go back to sleep. I immediately heard the sound of more digging. When I looked down, you had extracted from my purse yet another dirty kleenex. I sighed in exasperation, grabbed my purse and began searching it for dirty kleenex. I removed all the dirty kleenex from my purse (seriously, there weren't that many), and threw them away.
When I came back into the room, I discovered you playing. With another dirty kleenex. WHERE ARE YOU FINDING THESE THINGS?? And more importantly, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM???
At this point, I can only assume you are manifesting them yourself. And if you are capable of manifesting things, please start manifesting your own food and water. And someone to clean your litter box. And Hugh Jackman. If you can get Hugh Jackman to clean your litter box, well I guess that's one less thing.
Although you seem to prefer dirty kleenex, I did also find you with your head in the kleenex box last night. I can only assume you were attempting to pull the unused kleenex from the box. This is obviously some sort of karmic payback, as I used to do the same thing to my mother when I was a baby. So I suppose I can't be mad at you for that, as karma is, in fact, a bitch.
But you really do need to stop with the dirty ones. It is gross.
And please stop chewing up my shoes. That is something dogs do. It is beneath you.
You are about to be in Tinker-Trouble.
-Woman Who Feeds You (And is Tired of Cleaning Up the Dirty Kleenex)
Friday, November 8, 2013
November 8, 2013 2:26 a.m.
Dear Tink:
There seems to be some confusion regarding the rules of the household. For clarification, here is a list of places you are not allowed to occupy. And don't try to deny it. I have found you in every one of these places in the last week.
The kitchen table
The kitchen counter
The dining room table
The kitchen trash can
The bathroom trash can
The top of the pile of clean laundry
(dirty laundry is acceptable, though you seem to have no interest in it)
Snowball's bed while Snowball is in it
Penny's box while Penny is in it
Pumpkin's head
The dishwasher
The refrigerator
My purse
The lap of anyone sitting on the toilet
The toilet
The inside of the piano
The top of the curtains
The planter
My dinner plate
My water glass
The top of the coffee maker
Strange Man's coffee cup
The ceiling fan blades are also off limits. Though I have not yet found you up there, I've seen how you look at them. Don't even try it.
I have managed to make it to age 41 without ever being responsible for a two-year-old. I do not now intend to be held hostage by a Tinker-Toddler.
Sincerely,
Woman Who Feeds You
P.S. To Hugh Jackman (who reads this blog religiously) - these rules do not apply to you. I will also send you a private message containing a list of other areas you are allowed and encouraged to occupy.
There seems to be some confusion regarding the rules of the household. For clarification, here is a list of places you are not allowed to occupy. And don't try to deny it. I have found you in every one of these places in the last week.
The kitchen table
The kitchen counter
The dining room table
The kitchen trash can
The bathroom trash can
The top of the pile of clean laundry
(dirty laundry is acceptable, though you seem to have no interest in it)
Snowball's bed while Snowball is in it
Penny's box while Penny is in it
Pumpkin's head
The dishwasher
The refrigerator
My purse
The lap of anyone sitting on the toilet
The toilet
The inside of the piano
The top of the curtains
The planter
My dinner plate
My water glass
The top of the coffee maker
Strange Man's coffee cup
The ceiling fan blades are also off limits. Though I have not yet found you up there, I've seen how you look at them. Don't even try it.
I have managed to make it to age 41 without ever being responsible for a two-year-old. I do not now intend to be held hostage by a Tinker-Toddler.
Sincerely,
Woman Who Feeds You
P.S. To Hugh Jackman (who reads this blog religiously) - these rules do not apply to you. I will also send you a private message containing a list of other areas you are allowed and encouraged to occupy.
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