My dear friends,

As winter finally begins to turn, and the grass is at long last greening, I find myself in a bit of a quandary. I have been too nice. Not only does it seem that I have lost my edge, but word may be getting around.

It’s Mimi, you see. She’s so chirpy, and outgoing, and, well, nice, and I just can’t seem to get tough with her, at least not to my old standards. She butts in on my meals, she steals attention from me, she even jumps onto my chosen person’s lap when I am already in place! All I seem to be able to muster is a half-hearted yowl, and I pretend to swipe at her. What is it about this cat?

I should have been tough with her from the start, but now it’s too late. Lately I just can’t stop singing this old Irish song – it may as well be called “How Boots Lost His Mojo.” Sigh.

The Moggie Moggie Mew

Now I am a bachelor, but I live with this cat
And we’ve both got it made
And every every time that I look into her eyes
She chirps “Yup! I’m that fair young maid!”
She reminds me of that summertime, and most of the winter too
And the many many times that I didn’t ANNIHILATE HER
Just to save her from my Moggie Moggie Mew.

I think I’ll go drown my sorrows with a shot of Irish Whiskers (aka flaked tuna).

Much love,
Bootsy O’Rosenberg