If You Were Wondering Why I'm Running Around Naked . . .

. . . I should tell you that I have major diaper rash.

How Good Do I Look . . .

in the sweater grandma and grandpa bought for me on their trip to Peru?

Curtis

Curtis is a bad kitty. Mommy and daddy have told him many times that he is not supposed to rush out the door when they are carrying in heavy objects or when the pizza guy comes, he is not supposed to lounge on the table while we are eating dinner, he is not to eat human food on the kitchen counter as it is being prepared for dinner, and he is not supposed to harrass the other cats. Still, he does all of these things. Sure, the other kitties do too, sometimes. But Curtis has made irresponsible behavior a habit.

Even worse, Curtis has bitten me. Mommy and daddy allow the kitties to give me a "warning bite" whenever I pull handfulls of hair out of their backs, beat them with something other than my hands, or try to separate their tails from the rest of their bodies. But they're never supposed to break the skin. Curtis, though, made me bleed when I was just petting him. Bad kitty. Of course, Curtis also gets away with standing on the coffee table, which mommy and daddy never let me do.

I don't know what mommy and daddy are planning to do about Curtis, but something must be done soon. All I can do is say "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" and that will only go so far.