Next week we’re going on a road trip from Washington to Colorado so we hired a pet-sitter to watch the cats and Lizard Bordan and keep us from being robbed but we weren’t sure if we’d be able to meet with her personally before we left so I decided to write her a letter to leave on the table just in case, and it quickly devolved into insanity because I was drinking.
Dear pet sitter.
Welcome to our house. We have 42 cats. They are JJ, Squirts, Little Tommy, Diarrhea Paul, Tater and the rest are named after all of the former members of Menudo. Tater is missing his back legs (he came that way) but we made him peg legs out of old chicken bones. You can hear him coming unless he’s on carpet. Then he’ll sneak up on you. Unless he’s eaten the chicken legs. Then you have to get new ones and reattach, as usual.
I know you’re technically a “pet sitter” but we always leave a sandwich out for the ghost of Michael Jackson. If you don’t mind, I mean. Also, please sing to the soul of my Aunt Susan. She is not at peace. We captured her soul in a box under the stairs but she’s tenacious. She might possess you. Do not listen if she starts talking to you. Maybe consider saying Lord’s Prayer and burning some sage before you leave so her spirit doesn’t follow you home. Up to you. I don’t want to tell you how to do your job. You’re the professional.
The cats are soothed by a daily live dance show. Nothing elaborate. Just gyrate. It doesn’t have to be professional. Do not play music though because it bothers them. If you can’t dance without music then hum the Star Spangled Banner. That’s what we do. If they still seem irritated after your dance it might be Aunt Susan doing a mocking dance behind you. Cats are sensitive to angry spirits and sarcastic dance. Just scream “QUIT IT, SUSAN. THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE TO LIVE IN A BOX” and start again.
When entering and leaving our home please give the finger to our neighbor, Randy. He’s a real asshole and we want him to know that other people are catching on. Maybe yell, “WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID, RANDY.” Feel free to ad-lib.
If the cats pee on the floor please make them feel better about it by peeing on the floor next to them. Then clean it up immediately and shame yourself. They’ll understand what you’re doing.
Do not turn on any lights when you visit at night. It disturbs the bats.
Sometimes there are bats.
We did have a viper but you don’t have to feed it because it disappeared a few months ago. Maybe shuffle your feet across the floor like you do around stingrays so he knows you’re coming and you won’t step directly on him. He would probably hate that.
Also, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but maybe make us a cake for the day we come back? Just as a gift. Cakes are delicious. Some of us are on a diet so maybe half no-carb and the other half chocolate wedding cake.
If you could breed the cats while we’re gone that would be fine. But don’t breed them with animals that aren’t cats. We don’t want to come home to a griffin or a centaur. This isn’t the Island of Doctor Moreau. This is our home. Also, don’t let Susan name any newborns. That’s our job and she is awful at it. That’s how we got Diarrhea Paul. (Who, as you will see, is accurately named but it’s a bit too on-the-nose. We don’t need reminding, Susan.)
You must feed the colony of raccoons who live under the porch by hand. Do NOT feed the bad ones. You’ll know which ones the bad ones are. Trust me. Do not get human blood on the porch. It attracts stuff. Don’t feed the stuff.
You said you’d also take care of plants. Dont get them wet. Wait, no, that’s gremlins. Do get them wet. But not too wet. They can’t swim.
Please do not put pajamas on the cats until after 8pm. It messes up their sleeping schedule. They’ll act like this is all new but I assure you it’s not. Their Instagram accounts should be updated each day. Please review the last 3 years of posts so that you can understand and imitate each of their personal voices. If you don’t get 3 likes per picture you’re doing it wrong. If you get more than 11 likes on a picture please note whatever you’re doing because that is a record.
If we die while on vacation you become the legal guardian of all of our animals and also Aunt Susan. You can’t have the bats though. No one owns bats.
Hugs,
me
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