Sir:
It is my understanding that you have a number of friends in Massachusetts, which accounts for your frequent absence from my dominion. I have heard, through reliable sources, that you have certain misgivings about this. To be specific: you have expressed concerns that your leaving me to my own devices shall create a loneliness that will be, ultimately, detrimental to my mental and emotional being.
I wish, at this point, to dispel your concerns.
First of all, please keep in mind that until you rescued me from my previous dire circumstances, I had no home, let alone an empire. I was a ronin, wandering the lands without a place to call my own. This was, for, me, arguably even more dire than the fate of a samurai without a daimyo, for in my case, it was I who was the daimyo, and was therefore not a servant without a master, but a master without a servant, much less a dominion.
By instilling me in my proper place, and allowing me to instill you as my faithful and trusty servant, you have restored me to my proper place in the space of things. For this, I shall be eternally grateful.
Second, the actual dominion you have secured for my rule is, shall we say, top drawer. The key to a perfect dominion is surfaces: surfaces on which to stand; surfaces on which to sit; surfaces on which to think; and, most important, surfaces in which to take naps. Each of these surfaces is, for me, a kind of throne, and by providing so many of these thrones you not only provide numerous places of quiet contemplation, but constant reminders of my position, my title.
Third, the dominion provides bountiful resources. When you leave me to my own devices, there are always plenty of provisions for my sustenance. Often, the visiting attendants you have hired provide me with, shall we say, “a little extra,” moist meals that, even when subjected to the stringent standards of imperial judgement for food and drink, receive high marks.
On a side note: we are running low on B.F.F. (Best Feline Friend) Tuna and Chicken Charm Me with Tuna and Chicken in Gravy. I have taken the liberty of acquiring enough to last many months in the event of a supply blockade. Don’t worry about this; I put it all on your credit card.
Finally, there is the simple fact that when you are gone, you remain. The kindness and generosity you continue to extend to me does not go forgotten. Even now, my mind is filled with memory after memory of the devotion and allegiance you extend, and such things cause me to settle into a meditative calm.
Furthermore, my mind always has pleasant anticipatory thoughts of your return. As always, you will have stories for me of your travels, and I shall, as always, be eager to listen. It balances the blood.
So, sir, I urge you not to worry. I have my empire, and in that empire, I have peace, tranquillity, and contentment. I shall, in my meditative contemplation, reflect on all that I have in my life, and such reflections shall fill me with quiet joy.
Having written this, I admit to feeling rather fagged out. I shall require a can of salmon flavored Fancy Feast posthaste. Having taught myself to open cans—and with eager anticipation of your return, and the more immediate anticipation of a much needed post-writing and post-meal nap—I bid you adieu.
Fondly,
Hugo
Emperor
Apartment 29 D1
It is my understanding that you have a number of friends in Massachusetts, which accounts for your frequent absence from my dominion. I have heard, through reliable sources, that you have certain misgivings about this. To be specific: you have expressed concerns that your leaving me to my own devices shall create a loneliness that will be, ultimately, detrimental to my mental and emotional being.
I wish, at this point, to dispel your concerns.
First of all, please keep in mind that until you rescued me from my previous dire circumstances, I had no home, let alone an empire. I was a ronin, wandering the lands without a place to call my own. This was, for, me, arguably even more dire than the fate of a samurai without a daimyo, for in my case, it was I who was the daimyo, and was therefore not a servant without a master, but a master without a servant, much less a dominion.
By instilling me in my proper place, and allowing me to instill you as my faithful and trusty servant, you have restored me to my proper place in the space of things. For this, I shall be eternally grateful.
Second, the actual dominion you have secured for my rule is, shall we say, top drawer. The key to a perfect dominion is surfaces: surfaces on which to stand; surfaces on which to sit; surfaces on which to think; and, most important, surfaces in which to take naps. Each of these surfaces is, for me, a kind of throne, and by providing so many of these thrones you not only provide numerous places of quiet contemplation, but constant reminders of my position, my title.
Third, the dominion provides bountiful resources. When you leave me to my own devices, there are always plenty of provisions for my sustenance. Often, the visiting attendants you have hired provide me with, shall we say, “a little extra,” moist meals that, even when subjected to the stringent standards of imperial judgement for food and drink, receive high marks.
On a side note: we are running low on B.F.F. (Best Feline Friend) Tuna and Chicken Charm Me with Tuna and Chicken in Gravy. I have taken the liberty of acquiring enough to last many months in the event of a supply blockade. Don’t worry about this; I put it all on your credit card.
Finally, there is the simple fact that when you are gone, you remain. The kindness and generosity you continue to extend to me does not go forgotten. Even now, my mind is filled with memory after memory of the devotion and allegiance you extend, and such things cause me to settle into a meditative calm.
Furthermore, my mind always has pleasant anticipatory thoughts of your return. As always, you will have stories for me of your travels, and I shall, as always, be eager to listen. It balances the blood.
So, sir, I urge you not to worry. I have my empire, and in that empire, I have peace, tranquillity, and contentment. I shall, in my meditative contemplation, reflect on all that I have in my life, and such reflections shall fill me with quiet joy.
Having written this, I admit to feeling rather fagged out. I shall require a can of salmon flavored Fancy Feast posthaste. Having taught myself to open cans—and with eager anticipation of your return, and the more immediate anticipation of a much needed post-writing and post-meal nap—I bid you adieu.
Fondly,
Hugo
Emperor
Apartment 29 D1
