My Name is Man-Kitty, and I Am a Saboteur

Hello, readers of my mother, who is better known in your circles as Dr. Crazy. I feel that is important that I send a message out to you all. One of apology and one of hope.

First, for the apology portion of my missive. First, let me preface this by saying that I really am a darling, darling kitty-cat. I love deeply and warmly, and I am, mostly, a faithful feline companion in these difficult times. However, even I have my bad days. And those bad days, while few and far between, are a real bitch for those around me.

Today, it was a bad day. It started at around 3:30 AM. My mother had a "guest," whom earlier in the evening had been my friend; I had played with the guest, and it was fabulous. But, under the cover of darkness, I decided that this "guest" was an enemy. And I began my campaign of terror, for I most like to attack when the enemy is vulnerable (i.e., sleeping). This then caused conflict between my mother and the "guest," which of course, was part of my campaign of psychological warfare, which I waged concomitantly with the campaign of terror. The whole thing ended with me wounding the enemy hours later with a deep gash to the arm. The enemy bleeds, oh yes, the enemy bleeds.

Now, from this account, you may not think that I am sorry, but truly, I feel deep remorse. For one, my mother, she was not at all pleased with my behavior, not one bit. For she has deep affection for this enemy within the House of Crazy, in spite of my angry and, admittedly jealous, protests. For two, my behavior meant that my mother had to feel conflict between her true and abiding affection for me, which is timeless and universal and unconditional, and this "affection" she feels for this other... "person" (whom, were I granted the authority to bestow pseudonyms, I would name, The Interloper). The mama, she was torn, and very upset. Luckily, The Interloper was able to soothe the mama and to accept her apologies on my behalf, as I really do only want what my mama wants and what makes her happy.

Also, it is lucky that The Interloper had been set to leave today anyway, so no further conflicts might arise. (Some might argue it would have been better for The Interloper to stay longer, so that we could work out our "issues" and come to some kind of tentative peace, but this was not written in the stars.) My mama set off with the Interloper to transport him to a nearby town where the Parents of the Interloper reside. And this is where the message of hope begins, my friends, for I do think of you as friends, even though I only know you through my mama's reports. For it seems that during the course of the car ride, and then my mama's tour around the Hometown of The Interloper, and then in the brief time that my mama spent at the residence of the Parents of The Interloper, that things did go very smoothly, and that although things are now in a liminal state between my mama and The Interloper, that my mama feels entirely positive about what has transpired over the past days, even if I was a royal asshole (which I'm not saying I was, but this seems to be my mama's view). So there is hope for assholic kitty-cats, and there is hope for Interlopers everywhere, for it seems like even the most strategically waged campaigns of terror and psychological warfare cannot dampen the spirits of the humans whom those campaigns affect.

So with that, dear blog readers, I bid you Good. Day. Or I suppose good night, but Good. Day. has a better ring to it.