How are you. I am fine. It is cold here now, and even though Dad let me outside yesterday afternoon, I did not like it. I sat on the steps, and when he came out later to get the mail, I went inside. Brother was on the heating pad, or I might have taken it myself. (The heating pad is actually for Sister, because she is old and grouchy. But Sister does not use it because Brother has contaminated it by his presence.)
Mom and Dad tell me that you have a new Sister, too, but that she is pink and fleshy. I am sorry. Is she evil? Your parents are cruel and thoughtless not to have asked your permission. Don’t they understand that cats do not like change? I hope that at the very least they still feed you regularly.
What do you do in South Dakota? Are there squirrels? Are there birds? Are there leaves? There are leaves here, now, and while they are not as tasty as birds, they do have their virtues. (They’re plentiful, for example.) This weekend, Mom and Dad work in the yard. They raked leaves. I helped.
Auntie Tiff came over, too. I like Auntie Tiff. She knows just how to wiggle a stick.
Later in the day, I rescued Brother. He was sitting by the birdbath when he was set upon by Flash. Brother is rather stupid, and cannot cope with Flash alone, so I charged to his aid. It used to be that Flash and I engaged in mind games, and that the outcome was always in doubt. No longer. I have been practicing, and my mind is now so vastly superior that Flash slinks away in fear.
When the yardwork was finished, I summoned Mom to my side and commanded her to carry me inside. She is a good Mom.
It is sad that you are now so far away, friend Nine. I hope that you are not lonely. I hope that your parents feed you well. I hope that you have birds and squirrels to chase. I hope one day to see you again.
— your friend, Simon Gates