Saturday afternoon, chez Yowl
Her Grace, the Duchess of Yowl: There's a certified letter for you.
Me: (immediate panic) What? Where?
DoY: On the floor by the door.
Me: Who signed for it?
DoY: I did.
Me: How did you open the door?
DoY: The letter just slid under the door, no need to use malodorous door knobs.
Me: A certified letter just slid under the door? And the return notice?
DoY: That too. Now open it.
Me: (increasingly suspicious) This has "certified" typed on the envelope. It doesn't have an actual green certified sticker.
DoY: The post office is busy this time of year. They probably just took a short cut.
Me: Certified is spelled with an S.
DoY: I really think you should open it.
Me: (opening it) It's from the ASPCA.
DoY: I suspected as much.
Me: It accuses me of cruelty.
DoY: Took them long enough.
Me: I've been mistreating a cat.
DoY: Not just "a" cat; "THE" cat.
Me: Right. "The cat" as if there is but one.
DoY: There's more than one?
Me: At least several....million.
DoY: Still, cruelty.
Me: Right, cruelty. What form of cruelty is being inflicted on "the" cat?
DoY: It says what you've done. Right there in black on white.
Me: So it does. Failure to to adhere to minimum petting standard.
DoY: I told you.
Me: Yes you did. At length, and at volume. Such that the Association for Prevention of Cruelty to Eardrums has lodged a complaint.
DoY: Tell them to get in line.
Me: If I'm answering summonses, I'm not petting.
DoY: Pet now, jail later.