Dear Patrice,
By now you’ve noticed the cage on the floor, wrecked, door ajar. You’ve probably seen the feathers.
I don’t know what to tell you, Patrice, except that whatever came over me was stronger than I was; remember that time with the catnip, when I accidentally tore the curtains down looking for another one of those toy mice? This was worse.
I understand if I’m not welcome indoors anymore. I’ve left for the time being, for both our sakes.
If you decide to take me back, I’ll be staying in the cardboard box behind the garage.
With regret,
Mittens
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