An open letter to Florence

I am very irritated at your non-nature-call incursions. It's enough that I let you deposit your weapons of mass destruction in the litter-box inside MY territory. Pha is my serf. I let him pet you and put you on his lap upstairs because I am a nice cat. Downstairs is my domain. Pha rents it out by combing me. You already have stakes in the sleepy cooker and the human beanbag. I don't. Lay off pha or I'll strike my cheeks to your paws and have my ears insert your hisses. It has taken me forever to have pha smelling like something decent, namely me. Stick to your old-couch-scratching and dining-chair(s)-hogging, sis. You have been warned.


p.s. Haven't seen you downstairs in a while, are you okay?