National Larry Day

Dear Larry,

So I hear it’s National Cat Day. Yeah, a whole day dedicated to celebrating everything that is cat and everything that is you, Larr. Such as the way you must lay on all of my business when I am trying to get down to business, the way you scratch the shit out of everything that is upright and covered in a material you can sink your claws into, the way that you constantly stare……, the way that you chase and bat around nonexistent dust bunnies or invisible mice or simply your own tail until you catch it, the way that you curl up beside me and purr so loudly I almost want you stop even though it’s so damn cute, the way that you knock off all the stuff on my dresser so that I will acknowledge your presence WHICH I WILL NOT WHEN YOU ACT SO RUDELY, the way that you meow at me directly in the face until I feed you, the way that you eat almost anything you can fit in your mouth during the hours which you are not eating actual cat food, the way you climb into the smallest, tiniest spaces to prove that you are thinner than I am (that’s why you do that right?), the way you never let us forget that you live here too, dammit, you will not be ignored, and the way you bite my nose to wake me up in the morning…

Oh Larry, there’s so much to celebrate. So here’s to you kid(ie cat).

Wishing you the best of days,


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We love each other sometimes


Lost and Found

Dear Larry,

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! This apartment is not that big, and yet you have mysteriously disappeared on some cat adventure. This is not a good look for me, Larr. Losing you means losing my roommates most prized possession: the beloved animal who is almost like a son to her, her words not mine.

There’s only so many places that you can be, and I feel like I checked them all. WHERE ARE YOU?

Stupid cats, just sneaking and lurking around, finding impossible hiding spots in what is just barely a two bedroom apartment. You know you’re not proving anything, besides being lower to the ground and able to fit into smaller spaces with your smaller body and having better eyesight than us humans. Which in the grand scheme of things is not much.

Some please, come out come out wherever you are… I just have no idea where you… Oh shit, has the door always been cracked open? Did you get out? Are you wandering the halls of this 4 story walk up or worse the streets of Queens?! Oh Larr, you aren’t prepared for that!!  The biggest area you’ve ever roamed is my roommate’s bedroom, and trust me Larr, it’s not that big when compared to the massive expanse of the entire world larr. The entire world. And you might be lost in it. I can just see you know, huddled in some corner of the street, overwhelmed by the sounds, sights and smells of the mean city, avoiding the pounding rain you hate so much. It’s not raining now, but it might start soon, who knows, the world is unpredictable, Larr. You’ll learn that quickly.

Oh dear Larry, there is so much I could have taught you to survive out there, and there is so little that you would have actually understand, but I would have tried anyway, Larry. Because you deserve to at least have a chance, Larr. A slim one, but a chance.

Larry, if I could only see that stupid little, adorable face of yours now, I’d give you the biggest hug–


Oh, there you are.

Jeez, Larr. I just spent 15 minutes looking for you. You couldn’t come when I called?! Jerk.

Love a girl who’s angry….. but glad you’re alive,


Sometimes you get it just right

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Dear Larry,

I know my hand makes a wonderful pillow, but I need it, to type and things. You’re making it really difficult to navigate my mouse and air my very passionate opinions on internet forums with your face… your cute…cuddly…sleepy, baby face nuzzled up in my hand. You’re just purring, in my hand, without a care in the world. You just want to be close to the action and snuggled up beside me, no other thought running through that less developed brain. I try to move, but you pull, YES PULL, my hand back to the spot you like it, and I’m dying about how cute you are.

AND IT’S ANNOYING. I’m trying to get shit done, Larr, and you’re putting all of your business up in mine and I do not approve.

But I needed that today, Larr. I know I bitch and moan and write a blog about all the things you do that annoy me, but sometimes, your annoying habits just get it right. Thanks, Larry.

Sappy moment over, now MOVE.

Love your friend,


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Thanks, Larr


Owning a Cat: A Game of Wits and Wills

Dear Larry,

My sunglasses are not food, Larry. Neither are my headphones, that bookstore receipt and my leg. Well technically my leg could be food, but that’s sick, you’re sick, Larr.

I know why you’re acting like this. It’s close to dinnertime, and you obviously want fed, and you want fed now. Well cat, I hate to break it to you, but you ‘re going to have to wait. You’re real owner has you on a very strict eating plan, and hell if I’m going to be the one to break it. You actually should be very familiar with this diet plan, since you’ve been on it the entire one-year you’ve been alive: breakfast before she goes to work, and dinner when she gets back. And if you would look up from gnawing on my leg for a second, Larr, you would see that she isn’t back yet. So I will not be feeding you right this minute, even though everything you’re doing right now would suggest that you demand otherwise.

I know you can wait this out, in fact, I’ve seen you do it before. And stop with that desperate sounding meowing. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. In fact, I know everything about your plan. I’ve read up on you cats. I know things, Larry, and I don’t think you want to get in a battle of wits against a human.

For instance, I came across an article entitled “13 Things You Didn’t Know About you Cat”, and after being like, please tell me 13 things I don’t know about my cat, I read the article. And do you want to know what I learned, besides the fact that scientists don’t actually know why cats purr (weird) and cats bump noses to “shake hands” (ADORABLE)? I learned (#3) that cats totally control their vocalizations AKA when you want food, you can make your cat cries sound like you’re an inch away from starvation and are going through a slow and painful death!

So HA, Larry, HA. You’ve been bested by a human!

You may sound desperate Larry, but deep down, you’re just trying to manipulate me, and I won’t be won over that easily. So yeah, keep staring me down. I’ll just look right back at those green eyes, searching for any semblance of love in that black, manipulative heart of yours. Keep eating my things, they’ll only make you sick. And keep biting my leg, because even though I push you off, you ‘ll come back for more, because (#5) cats don’t understand punishment like humans do….

Which, wait, is really messed up.  But whatever! I’m just gonna focus on this win, until I can somehow figure out how to get you to do what I want by not punishing you, and instead…rewarding you… for your good behavior.

Damn, even your innate cat learning abilities manipulate humans into bowing down to you.

You’re good, entire cat species. You’re good.

AMY 1. CATS…also 1.

Your bitch, apparently,



Full because I fed you OR because you needed to be fed


A somewhat sincere apology

Dear Larry,

I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry. Yes, I kicked you in the face, but it was an accident and it was basically all your fault. So stop looking at me like that, and stop running away from my hand.

Just a tip, Larr, when you’re hungry, it doesn’t help to chase after me and attack my legs from behind. I’m not sure what you thought you could accomplish by doing that, but what you actually did accomplish was to get hit in the face with my foot. Which I am sorry for…but again, it was actually all your fault.

You’re lucky you’re a cute, somewhat defenseless animal, and that if you get injured in any capacity, I automatically will feel super horrible and think that I just critically injured you, instead of mistakenly just bopping you on the head when, again, you ran into me.

So can we just be friends again? I’ll pet you and love you and try not to let you hurt yourself off me again.

But see Larry, that’s how lucky you are to be a cat. I’m apologizing to you to for something you did to me. What if my foot was hurting right now? What if I had tripped and broke an arm? What if I had died?!  Does any of that matter? Nope, and still I’m apologizing to you cause your cute little cat face cons me into feeling bad that you hurt yourself off me. Just another example of how cats run shit, without even really trying.

Damn Larr, does it feel good to be a blameless gangsta? I bet it does.

Love an unnecessarily apologetic pal,



Come back!!


Who Ya Gonna Call

Dear Larry,

Is there something I should know? You’re running from room to room at a blazing speed and frantically looking out each window of every room you enter.  Normally I would just think you’re in one of your saucy, hyperactive moods, you know, when you feel the need to jump on every surface and knock off any object that is currently residing there (I get it the king of the hill mentality, but really?), however this somehow feels different.

I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that cats are hypersensitive to ghosts or changes in the weather or like impending doom, so if one of those three things is about to happen or is currently happening could you please do something that let’s me know! Because I swear to god if there is a ghost floating above me or behind me or anywhere near me, I’m gonna… well I’m not sure what I would do… So maybe don’t tell me if there’s a ghost looking at me, unless it’s a crazy vengeful ghost that won’t leave until either they complete their unfinished business or I send them back to the hell from whence they came. We wouldn’t want that around the house. Thanks in advance, Larr.

But other than that, please let me know what’s happening. Almost every disaster movie takes place in New York, and now that I live here, I think that I, like all other New Yorkers need a disaster plan for whatever comes my way, whether it be the day after tomorrow, aliens, riots, zombies, the rapture or an intense tornado created by thousands of ghosts swirling around a storm cloud in one direction at the same time, which if it hits land will destroy every living thing in it’s path and prove once again that death always wins.

So I’ve put some thought into this. Whatever.

Well, you are my disaster plan, Larry. You are my warning system for any freak incident that hits New York and puts mankind in danger. You and your cat senses. So go, scan the apartment to ensure that all is well.

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That look…

Wait,what are you looking at?Why are you making that face? IS THERE A GHOST BEHIND ME? WHAT’S HAPPENING? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME?



I’m know I’m not perfect, but you don’t need to remind me

Oof! A clean shot right to my self confidence

Dear Larry,

I don’t know what sensation you get out of it, but when you knead into my stomach with your two front paws like that, well, let’s just say it doesn’t really boost my body confidence. In fact, I sort of feel like the Pillsbury dough girl (It kind of tickles, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I LIKE IT). Lie in my lap all you want and have a grand ol’ time, Larr, but could we do without the kneading of my stomach area?

And just so you know, it’s only bulgy and cushy there because I’m sitting down and bending at such an angle that my internal organs have nowhere to go but out.

So there.

I have a very little, super tiny, almost non-existent stomach bulge there because of my internal organs and NOT because I just ate a plate nachos.

Love the healthiest, skinniest, most beautiful gal in the world,


P.S. Don’t think I don’t see your little stomach bulge, mister.

Just an FYI

Dear Larry,

        This is called going to the bathroom.

You’ve been staring at me intently for the last 30 seconds without breaking eye contact, which for a cat is actually kind of impressive, but also creepy, definitely very creepy. So since you seem just soooo interested in me at this exact time and since I have what is clearly your undivided attention,  I just thought I’d let you know that this is the human version of what you do in your litter box.

It’s just normal animal stuff…

just normal, average, everyday stuff…

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So yeah…pretty bor–

photo 2

Oh my god, Are you gonna stop staring at me? Cause now you’re just making me nervous. Seriously, I’m getting stage fright, Larr.

Love the girl who never should have left the door open in the first place,


Let’s Talk About Plastics

Dear Larry,

 Why do you eat plastic? It isn’t healthy for you and it can’t taste all that great. Having to clean up the regurgitated pieces of plastic that you’ve half digested before unleashing back on the world makes me want to vomit, and yet instead of taking my happiness, and your happiness for that matter, into account you always go back for more.

Are you addicted, Larry? Maybe plastic is kitty crack and you’re not being bad, just silently battling the inner demons of plastic addiction, unable to express the torture of having your body constantly yearn for thin plastic bags, hair ties and the mysterious, miscellaneous pieces of plastic I never knew existed in this household until I see them amongst your vomit…..

Yes, that would be a sad tale, Larry. But I don’t see other cats eating as much plastic as you, so it’s pretty clear that your claim to a plastic addiction would be unfounded, Larry. You must just like it.


Is it the taste? All those organic polymers or chemicals or whatever other magical science-y nonsense that makes up plastic cannot be sooo delicious that your constantly eating it. If they did, more humans would probably have weird addictions to eating plastics. Notice how I said more, Larry, because I’m pretty sure plastic addiction is a real thing in humans, according to a bunch of reality show. Which is just another reason why it’s not okay to be faking one, Larry. It’s just inconsiderate cause there are real people out there people suffering from plastic addiction….maybe.

 Is it the texture? Does that sleek, stretchy smooth material feel funny, yet awesome in your mouth and on your tongue? I can’t get behind the eating of plastic, Larry, but I guess I could get behind that reasoning. I mainly enjoy tapioca pudding and cottage cheese simply for their odd textures, but again those things can’t kill me, Larry. Plastic consumption, on the other hand, kills. If only you had seen those recycling PSAs where they caution irresponsible humans against casually tossing plastic six-pack rings and other dangers into oceans and parks and stuff, plastics which eventually kill adorable and defenseless animals.

            Adorable. Defenseless. Animals. Killed.

            Killed, Larry. Killed.

So I’ll keep telling you reminding you how bad it is to be eating plastic as I forcibly fish around in your mouth for the remnants of my hair tie.

            Just say no to plastic. Please. Before this is you…