By Bianca Schultz
To: joeway@gmail.com
Subject: Catty—I Mean Chatty—Email
Hi Joe,
I’m Trevor, your across-the-street neighbor. I figured it was high time I introduced myself to my neighbors (considering I moved in three years ago), so I did a quick Google search and found your email on LinkedIn. Hopefully this message finds you well.
I was in my backyard yesterday, tenderly pruning excess stems off my tomato plants (it’s called single stemming, a quite controversial method in the tomato-gardening community), when I heard a peculiar rustling sound coming from my freshly fertilized hydrangea bushes. Plugging my nose (the fertilizer smelled like rotten fish), I parted the leaves of the bush and lo and behold! Your new Maine Coon cat, carefully dissecting the remains of what I can only imagine to be a mouse. Or rat. I’m not quite sure.
Desperately, I tried to get your cat out of the bush with my rhythmic clapping and boisterous shouting—I even blew my emergency whistle I tuck into my cotton shirts—but your curious creature continued munching on its victim, splattering drops of crimson blood and half-bitten mouse meat onto my newly installed pavers. Honestly, I think the blood splatters are a much needed accent against the gray patio—gives them an abstract expressionist feel.
Anyway, I wanted to write to you not only to introduce myself, but also to praise you for your great work in raising and taking care of cats. Excellent “cat”-manship (I just love a good pun, my friend).
I mean, in the past two months, you and Dianne (I found her name on FaceBook) have gone through fifteen different shelter cats. I think it really is great work that you all are doing, adopting those poor shelter cats to give them a second lease on life. I can’t imagine how happy those cats must be, free from the stone-cold cages of the shelter, and free of looming euthanasia. It really is God’s work that you two are doing, raising shelter cats in this age of purebred fur babies.
Moreover, I want to praise you for keeping vets in business. I only ever bring my cat in for his annual physical, which is a shame. Deep down inside, I wish I could financially support vets more often. What is it like, bringing in your cats every other week for various abscesses, fleas, viruses, and the occasional case of the rabies, knowing that these health adventures are single handedly maintaining entire careers?
Also, I wholeheartedly believe that the deaths, I’m sorry, tragic losses of your kitties contribute to the development of stronger children. Think about it. Every time you adopt a new pet, your children meet it, form beautiful, sacred bonds, then grieve the pet after it goes missing, presumably at the paws of a supposedly pestilent coyote (although I commend your commitment to boosting the biodiversity of our suburb). What must it be like, every week, having to tell little Jane and young Tommy that their latest sweet new feline friend has passed through the pearly gates of kitty cat heaven? Do they still cry? I wholeheartedly commend this practice. Through this grief, your children become stronger. They learn of life’s impermanence, and not only evolve into less attached individuals, but become hardened and immune to the sufferings of others, an admirable—dare I say necessary—trait in the rough and tumble world in which we live.
And we all know cats are prepared to take on the outside world. Their baffling ability to dodge cars, avoid fights with other animals, stave off disease (they’re practically immune to all illness), drink and consume only the freshest water and street food, and stay alive in the presence of local coyotes remains truly incredible. However, some of these rather unfortunate instances remain unavoidable in a cat’s life. Unfortunately, the past fourteen of your cats have gone missing and have never been found. That’s why I believe I have an excellent solution to this dilemma of yours.
I was thinking, just thinking, to spare the heartache of looking for your missing cats, spending many days’ worth of worry wondering about their ultimate fates, I would offer my help coordinating meetups with the local coyotes to just give them your cats. I have always wanted to start up a party planning business, so I think this would be the perfect sort of event to gain exposure for my company—and myself.
Picture this—you adopt your new cat, let it acclimate to the neighborhood for a week (assuming it even lasts that long), and then we can track down the nearest pack of coyotes (the fiercer the better), and make our cat-prize offer. See, I told ya I love sweet puns. With this unique trade opportunity, we will know for a fact where your cat went, and you won’t need to plaster missing posters around the neighborhood and on Nextdoor (although you always get at least six likes—you’re becoming a real neighborhood celebrity—don’t think I didn’t notice)!
So hopefully, after reading through this email, you’ll understand just how in awe I am of your commitment to maintaining the local coyote population. Your rapid adoption of new cats is providing the food necessary to keep these coyotes around longer than you and I can ever dream! I wish I had the guts to feed my cat to the coyotes too! I mean, sitting here, petting my almost sixteen-year-old healthy and spry tabby cat (who has never stepped outside my home) is a pretty boring lifestyle. If I had let him out, imagine how much fun that would have been? I would have had many more cats this past decade and a half!
Let’s meet next Thursday to mull the ideas over. How does coffee sound? Your place? You’ll probably have a new cat by then, so it will be the perfect time to discuss and plan this idea!
Don’t be a stranger!
Trevor
Welcome to The Shield’s annual satire section. Writers use satire to improve a problem in society. Sometimes readers misunderstand the satire as they do not recognize the hyperbole, irony, rhetorical questions, sarcasm, and understatements. A great satirist will also address counter-arguments (the non-satirical solution) with great mockery and sarcasm. Readers may mistake the satirical solution for the actual solution that the writer proposes. The ideas in these satire stories do not necessarily represent the opinions of The Shield or Westmont. If one is confused about satire, please contact a friendly neighborhood English teacher.