The time has come when I must move on to the next phase of my life and leave my kids behind. Some formal words to ease my heartache....
I don't worry about you as much as I worry about Dudes. I know you are content simply eating, grooming, and subjecting people to the abrasive toxicity of your bad attitude. At one time we were as close as a girl and a cat could be until you developed that compulsive obsessive grooming habit and started to eat your own tail. Then came the daily baths. Then came the compulsive obsession with the daily baths. Now you are the cleanest cat in Canada and your tail is fluffier than any other part of your anatomy--which was obviously your goal all along.
I don't look forward to the days when I'll be missing you. I won't be there to say, "helloooo, bitch" when you waddle into the room. I won't be there to treat your lardy undercarriage like an entity all its own.
There are so many things I love about you, like your flaming ego or the way you pretend you don't poop. You're a true woman, Chubchub, and I love you for it.
Little Dudes. Life is going to be quite different when I'm gone, but I have faith that you'll adjust and possibly even forget about me after a few weeks. You were never the brightest crayon in a pack of 64, but your jovial spirit and quirky, somewhat bizarre tendencies have won the hearts of many.
I want you to remember two things. First, you are NOT a dog, nor do you want to be. Second, always be proud of your breasts. You are the only cat I have ever known to actually have breasts and this is an accomplishment in itself.
I love the kazillion different ways you meow, including your insecure, "I'm lonely" meow and your barely audible cat-whine which you only use when you want someone to dote on you. I know you'll get bored when I'm not around to play with you, but try not to beat up Chubchub too much--she's unnaturally large and does not have the agility you do. If you ever get bored, go find a garbage can and dump it over. I know how much you like that.