An urgent bulletin regarding Cat Daddy’s disappearance, inadequate emotional support, and the sounds Gary considers appropriate for the occasion.
Dear Cat Daddy,
You left.
I noticed immediately.
I would like to begin by clarifying that I am not accusing you of abandonment.
I am simply asking why you abandoned me.
One minute you were here. The next minute you were not here. No announcement was made. No transition plan was provided. No one consulted me.
I checked.
You were definitely gone.
I Attempted to Remain Calm
For several seconds, I handled the situation with considerable maturity.
Then I began calling for you.
Loudly.
This was not crying.
It was an emergency location procedure.
I checked the usual places. I inspected the hallway. I listened carefully for evidence that you had reconsidered your decision.
Nothing.
At this point, I required assistance.
Galaxy Was Unhelpful
I located Galaxy sleeping in the closet.
This seemed like an excellent time for her to provide emotional support.
She disagreed.
I explained the situation.
She opened one eye.
I explained it again, with greater urgency.
She closed the eye.
I remain unclear on what exactly she believes her management position involves.
Galaxy would like the record to reflect that she was asleep and that Gary’s feelings are not a scheduled household service.
The Toy Situation Escalated
With Cat Daddy missing and Galaxy refusing to participate, I was forced to take matters into my own paws.
I retrieved a toy.
The toy itself was fine.
I was not.
I carried it through the house while producing a series of sounds that, according to the humans, suggest severe injury, impending death, or possibly the collapse of civilization.
These descriptions are dramatic.
I was simply making an announcement.
A lengthy announcement.
At considerable volume.
The toy remained silent throughout the incident and has declined to comment.
Someone had to communicate the seriousness of the situation.
Mom Was Available. This Was Not Relevant.
Mom was home.
Mom heard everything.
Mom said my name several times.
“Gary.”
“Gary, come here.”
“Gary.”
I heard her.
This is important.
I was not confused.
I was not unable to locate another human.
I simply required Cat Daddy.
Mom attempted to offer comfort.
I declined.
Politely, by ignoring her completely.
This was not a general emotional-support request. It was highly specific.
The Door Remained a Problem
I returned to the door.
I called for you.
I waited.
I called again.
This process continued for approximately ten minutes.
Mom remained available.
Again, irrelevant.
Eventually, I accepted that you were not immediately returning and resumed normal household activity.
I would like it noted that this resolution was reached under protest.
Your Return Was Acceptable
Eventually, you came back.
I would like it noted that this was the correct decision.
I greeted you appropriately and resumed normal operations.
There was no need to discuss the previous ten minutes.
Mom had already heard them.
So had the door.
So, presumably, had several neighboring ZIP codes.
I was simply pleased that the situation had been resolved.
Your return was appreciated. Your departure remains under review.
Proposed Morning Departure Protocol
Because this appears to be a recurring issue, I have developed a simple procedure for future mornings.
Before leaving, please provide:
one clear announcement,
one final opportunity for contact,
an estimated return time,
and reasonable assurance that you have not disappeared forever.
I understand that Mom will still be home.
This does not address the concern.
Mom is Mom.
You are Cat Daddy.
These positions are not interchangeable.
Galaxy has reviewed this policy and would like to clarify that she does not require departure briefings from anyone.
Final Thoughts
I am willing to consider the matter resolved for today.
Tomorrow morning, however, will be evaluated independently.
If you leave again, I will respond based on the information available to me at that time.
Historically, the information available has been:
the door is closed,
Cat Daddy is gone,
Mom is saying “Gary,”
and nobody appears to understand the seriousness of the situation.
I trust this explains my position.
Love,
Gary
Director of Emotional Escalation
CatSassy
This correspondence was dictated while Mom was technically available.