My name’s George and I’m writing to warn my fellow kitties about a potential danger that could be waiting for them when they least expect it: when they return to the family nest after playtime chasing butterflies in the garden, or when they wake up from their nap.

Never in all my days did I expect to happen what occurred last Friday as I took my afternoon snooze. For years I have been the one and only baby of my parents Kim and John. They have cared for me, doted on me and offered up treats that befit my attractive appearance and friendly nature. They appreciated my intelligence and skill and in return I played with them for hours to keep them intellectually stimulated and allowed them to stroke my soft fur.

This tolerable existence was shaken violently when I was roused from my sleep by none other than a large, noisy and untrained canine! The beast tore into the laundry room – where I like to sleep next to the warm radiator – and screamed loudly into my ear. Of course, I woke all a fright and called out for Kim and John to remove the slobbering monstrosity from my abode. Once, twice, thrice I called out for them: “Meow! Meoow! Meeooow!” all the while, the infant of the inferior species tried to engage me in battle, pawing at my hind legs and licking my ear, I was sure he would tear me to pieces and his disgusting saliva dripped onto my back clogging my beautiful fur.

Eventually John and Kim shuffled into the room, and to my total dismay, instead of rushing over and rescuing me from the intruder, they trotted over, picked it up and began to pet it!
“This is Bobby our new puppy,” said John. “He’s going to be part of our little family,” Kim chirped in, all smiles like a crazy woman. Well my friends, I didn’t know what to do with myself! I could only assume my parents had been possessed, or had eaten far too much catnip all at once. I had to make a decision about my course of action in an instant, so I dived for the door hissing at the ghastly waggling stranger on my way.

Luckily John and Kim seemed to get the message. The next morning John popped out very early before my breakfast and returned with a new collar for me (obviously an apology gift). It also came with a nice small door that restricted access to my lair, which came in a box simply marked ‘microchip cat flap’. In the days since, I’ve seen the wet black nose of the beast pressed up against the door as he begs to be let in to my stylish space. I must say, he seems to be even more stupid than I imagined dogs would ever be, so much so that I’m starting to see him as far less of a threat and more of an inconvenience. Still, it’s nice to know I’m still John and Kim’s favourite – why would they give me my own private parlour otherwise?

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