I’d like to mail you my cat I’ve covered him in stamps and hope that’s enough postage. He’s not heavy, but I think the post office charges for oddly shaped packages. →[More:]Plus, he’ll probably eat half of them in transit. At least I hope he will. That way there will be some exposed fur to pet when he gets to you. Just be careful because if you pet him too long, he’ll bite you. Also, if you pet him too little, he will bite you. If you pet him on a day of the week ending in Y, he will bite you.

So basically, what I’m saying is that he will bite you. And also scratch the hell out of your legs as punishment for walking. Or simultaneously bite and scratch your arm as punishment for sitting. He likes to mix it up.

But when he attacks, you can throw him outside. He’ll reward you with the occasional mouse corpse, if you’re lucky. But more often it will be an eviscerated chipmunk, a headless bird, a mysterious dorsal fin or a hobo. How he manages to stab so many hoboes, I do not know.

Then he’ll want to come back in, so he’ll meow. It’s technically only meowing because it’s a sound that comes from a cat. Really, it’s more like the sound of a really, really loud (possibly operatically trained) newborn who is cold and hungry and going through crack withdrawal. He can do it for hours without the slightest decline in intensity. He will also do this when he wants his food, which he will not eat unless you physically walk him to his bowl, point to it and say, “There is your food.”

All this will make you wonder, “Is he brain damaged or just an asshole?” The answer is, he’s a little bit of both.

I’d really, really, really like to mail you my cat. Please forward your address.