Preface

Dear Internets:


I have been the proud pet-parent of Onna, my domestic short-hair cat, ever since I adopted her from a shelter whilst living in Nagoya, Japan.  I have since moved back to the United States, kitty in tow. She was always quite happy being the focus of almost all my attention. She would look at me lovingly when I fed her, meow in response to open-ended questions I might pose aloud, and curl up contentedly next to my pillow, dutifully, every night.


Two months ago I fell in love with an Australian Shepherd/Spitz mix up for adoption on Craigslist (note: I mean that figuratively, not literally; I would never condone zoofilia). She's eight years old, is spunky, always smiles and loves a good belly rub, but due to a familial situation, her previous owners couldn't keep her.  I brought her home and she has added such a loving dynamic to the household.  


But, I have reason to suspect Onna is not as "on board" with the whole dog thing as I am. She has been noticeably distant with me, and often spends her time alone.  This morning I awoke to a crumpled ball of paper striking my head.  I opened what appeared to be a letter to my cat, from my dog.  If that doesn't sound strange enough, next to my pillow was a neatly typed note in Memo format, addressed to me and signed by my cat, apparently in response to said crumpled-projectile-dog-letter.


To be fair, I am subject to flights of fancy, and have been known to indulge in a glass of red with my dinner, but even those can't explain everything.


Sincerely,
Min