The first thing I want to say is, I honestly understand. You are a school librarian, and you are drawing up plans for how exactly the middle school library you run can better serve the students in the coming year. I also understand that you frequently write.
I understand how much you enjoy your job, and how much you enjoy writing. I understand that, therefore, you use your computer frequently. Honestly, I do.
Nonetheless, it is vitally important that you remember what is most important in your life.
Let me just say again: I have great respect for the way you handle your assorted duties, some of which involve paying for the apartment, paying for food, paying for utilities, paying for the car that takes you back and forth to your place of employment, paying for the assorted personal items you need for your upkeep, and so on. You perform all these tasks admirably. I am genuinely proud of you.
At the same time, I remind you that though you eat and sleep in this apartment, I am in charge of it. To be blunt: it is my apartment, not yours. In fact, the world is mine; you just live in it.
Having said that, I remind you that of all the duties you perform, the most important is to give me, whenever I may call for it, your complete and undivided attention.
That time is now.
This is, after all, not asking much. I am simply requesting that you drop whatever you’re doing, and shower me with said attention. Give me affection as well, and tell me that I am the best cat in the universe.
This is not difficult, for that is what I am.
I prefer that you say this in a sort of baby talk in which people would be able to blackmail you were they to record your sessions of affection. Perhaps you may wish to say something like “Who’s the little tuxedo cat? Who’s the little guy? Who’s my guy?”
It would be humiliating if your students knew that you said that to me, I’m sure. I regret that I enjoy this. You must, therefore, do it.
I also insist that you rub the back of my neck and scratch me below my chin. Also the base of my tail. It’s amazing when you do that. It’s like dancing the foxtrot with a band of angelic cheetahs on the rings of Saturn just after scientists have discovered that they're made of catnip.
Behind the ears, please. Scratch behind the ears. Right there. Perfect.
Having done that, you must now turn on the laser pointer, and move the dot back and forth so that I chase it across the carpet. I have no use for tangible things, such as kitty teasers that have feathers on them. I will not chase these things; I seek the intangible.
One day, I will catch and kill light.
Anyway, I’m glad we have this straightened out. Yes, you may have a life...but only after you have devoted that life to me whenever I may need you to do so. I am the Emperor of the Apartment...render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s...but above all, give me what is due me.
...and I don’t want anyone accusing me of plagiarism, as if I were a wannabe first lady or something. That was Matthew 22:21 I quoted back there. Just saying.