dear bad cat,

It's cold outside. Very cold. You know this, because each time you touch your stupid nose to the window, you recline in horrified shock. That's why I dug through the closet last night to find my ugly, outdated but seriously warm winter coat.

I haven't worn the ugly but warm coat for a couple of years, and had a difficult time finding it in the closet. You watched all of this with great interest. Eventually, I discovered it lying on the floor, having slid off its hanger god knows how long ago. It was covered in an inch of your hair - so much of it that I didn't initially recognize it for what it was. Rather, I wondered if some disastrous leakage had seeped from the closet ceiling, covering this pile of wool and dashing my hopes of staying warm this week. When I exclaimed "what the hell," you looked as curious as I did.

Effing cat. Lazy, destructive, effing cat. It's not enough to cover the bedding, the couch, the carpets, and all my clothes with your clingy white hair, but you just couldn't resist the temptation of hiding in the closet and camping on my coat. My one warm coat. And never mind the constant puking. I cannot tell you about the constant puking. I'm up to here with your high maintenance. Cuteness only goes so far. One more stunt like this and we'll drop you by the side of the road where there are no warm coats to sleep on and no pretty duvet covers to barf all over.

I wasn't just angry with you, I was disheartened. I can't afford a new coat (although I did investigate the possibility), and it was nearing minus one million degrees outside. I had no choice but to try to clean it.

In the ninety-minute process, you watched me break the vacuum, destroy a lint brush, and empty two rolls of sticky refills - you know the ones. It's because of YOU that we keep so many on hand. When he came home and saw the smoke coming out of our relatively new vacuum, I instantly blamed YOU. "It's HER fault," I insisted. Thank goodness he'd taken the battery out of the smoke detector months ago. If we die in a fiery inferno one night, that will be your fault too.

Eventually the coat was clean enough to wear, and it kept me warm. Or warmish, at least. When I came home from work, a bit windblown and tired, you hopped on my lap and purred me back to good humour. And you didn't puke once. I suppose we'll keep you a while longer, but I hereby put you on notice, bad cat.

I'll be watching you.