With a Little Help From My Friends — Amy
For a good part of my life, I’ve been drawn to advice columns.
Being somebody who is constantly plagued with doubt, reading “Dear Abby” or “Dear Prudence” has been a wonderful way to learn what is socially acceptable and what is the type of weird behavior that gets you talked about behind your back.
Unfortunately, the advice columns run in the newspaper rarely answer the type of burning questions that keep me up at night. That’s where my friends come in. I’ve been blessed with friends and family that are wonderful fountains of information and advice. Some of the advice has even been solicited.
My sister Amy, for example, has been there my entire life to guide me through any problem I may be experiencing. With her scathing wit, freakishly large reservoir of trivial knowledge and her ability to empathize with most anybody, she has been a guiding resource in my life.
It’s no surprise, then, that I would want to read an advice column written by her. Unfortunately, Amy’s rather extensive criminal background as a horse rustler in the state of Montana prevents her from getting a job as an advice columnist at any respectable newspaper. That didn’t stop me from rustling up some of my own questions to solicit her responses for:
Dear Amy,
I am starting to get the impression that my cat does not respect me.
Every day I feed him his favorite food (lasagna), fill him in on all the humorous anecdotes that occur during my dates with his veterinarian and, most importantly, provide him with constant companionship.
Despite all of this, it seems the only things my cat has to offer me are pithy putdowns and a constant sarcastic smirk across his smug little furry face.
I’m getting sick and tired of being my pet’s personal jester. I’m a human being! I have a larger brain then that fleabag! I own him! Why, then, does he seem to think he’s so much better then me? Sure I have a tendency to get into wacky and zany misadventures that often end with me in some various form of pain. Is that any excuse, though, to loose my cat’s respect?
How can I reassert my dominance over my pet and show him that I am the alpha male of this relationship? I swear I’m one sarcastic eye roll from taking him to the vet for the final time.
— Unappreciated in Muncie
Dear Unappreciated in Muncie,
I think that you are investing way too much time on the wrong type of pussy. Spend more time with his veterinarian, and then he’ll have to work for your affection. You are the alpha, get his lazy ass up and tell him that he needs to play fetch with the dog. Let him cause misery on someone who will be willing to take the abuse and come back for more; and I don’t mean you. You need to show him that you are the alpha. If he questions it, compare and see who has the bigger balls. If you lose that contest, than it’s time for your cat to take a trip to the vet. There is a surgical procedure that will secure your ability to win the challenge from now on.
Good luck, and grow a pair!
Amy
Dear Amy,
I’m starting to get the impression that my owner is suffering from severe depression.
I’m just a cat who loves lasagna but even I can spot the signs of severe clinical melancholy. Last week, I walked in on him with a gun in his mouth mumbling something about what a sad, lonely parody of a life he led. He then proceeded to stare listlessly at a picture of the farmhouse he grew up in as a child and mutter soft apologies to his brother, Doc Boy.
Even though I’m a cat who is physically incapable of conversing with humans, he insists on having conversations with me. I mean, I’m a cat! I can only respond with a purr and, quite frankly, it’s hard to muster a purr when your owner is acting like a complete spaz.
It’s not like he can chat with his girlfriend. Every woman he asks out has turned down the poor guy down — often in highly humorous and cartoonishly comic ways.
I’m really worried about the guy and when I get worried I have a tendency to overeat — even resorting to stealing the hamburger off of my owner’s plate; which, of course, makes him sad. It’s a vicious cycle and I need your help to break it.
How can I cheer my owner up — I’ve tried giving him sympathetic eye rolls but it doesn’t seem to be working.
— Worried in Muncie
Dear Worried in Muncie,
Are you really worried? Or are you some sick and twisted f**k who likes to toy with people? So all you can do is purr, I call “Bullshit!” How are you writing this letter? You may have everyone else convinced that you are a just the poor concerned pet of a depressed man, but I see through your cover. By the way, you are not the only purring companion available to your owner. Have you ever realized that you could be replaced? I hope for your benefit that there aren’t any other pets in the house. If there are, you should make sure that they are on your side. I suggest you seek some professional medical attention and start learning how to do some tricks. The next time he tries talking to you, you better do a really cool backflip or meow out, “I love you.” Otherwise you might be facing a life on the street where a big hairy Persian is tricking you out for a cheap price. Remember, you have a nice home and don’t want to lose it to any cuter kitten that happens to come along.
Good luck,
Amy
Dear Amy,
Me Odie. Me like ball. You throw ball? You throw ball, me like you. Lick.
— Me in Muncie
Dear Odie,
I like you because you are nice and simple. You are straight forward and know how to convey what you want. I suggest you bring a ball to anyone you see and wait for them to throw it. The fatter the person, the better — think of yourself as their personal trainer. You are getting to play ball and they are getting a little execise too. I know that I probably lost your attention right after you heard your name so I will end with this:
Who’s a good boy? You are! Go get the ball. Good boy!
Amy
Amy is a lifelong proud resident of the state of Texas. When not picking on her little brother, she enjoys movies, live music concerts and beating everybody on Guitar Hero. She is currently working on her first comic strip based on the adventures of her chihuahua, Chula.
