A Heartfelt Letter from Skype the Cat

Hey Ma,

We need to talk.

Things have been different between us since the kid was born. Now, he’s a cute kid, I can’t lie. And I like him. Really, I do. If I hated the kid, I wouldn’t let him pet me, though his version of petting is more like a small pinch, just so you know. If I didn’t like him I’d run a mile, but I don’t.

Just wanted to clarify that.

Since he was born, we haven’t had as many cuddles. You go to bed so early, and I’m not allowed in the room anymore. I assume that’s cause the kid is in there, but isn’t there still room for me under the covers with you? I’d keep you warm, I promise. And if you let me into your room, I might even sleep a little longer and not cry to wake you when it’s still dark outside. Again, just sayin’.

letter from the cat

Remember when you brought me home from the place where me and all the other cats were behind glass? I was such a scaredy cat. I was afraid of my own shadow. But, living with you, Dad and Cuik, well, that brought me out of my shell. You made me confident enough to jump and bounce and play. You let me be me, the weird Ginger ninja that I am at heart. And at night, while you read a book or watched t.v., I’d lie across your soft belly and take a nap to the beat of your heart. It was pretty cool.

I knew something was up when you started to get bigger. When I’d try to lie on your stomach at night, it took a little bit more effort to not fall off. There were also those weird times that your belly poked me. Bizarre.

Then you left one day in a flurry of activity and didn’t come back. Dad did, but you were gone for a couple of nights. Dad was different, I could tell. He still gave me cuddles, fed me, and changed my litter, but he was distracted. Smiling, but distracted.

Skype lying across my six month pregnant belly.

Skype lying across my six month pregnant belly.

And then you came home, looking a little smaller around the waist (not that much smaller, but you know) with this enormous plastic purse. I thought ‘goody’! You brought us home something from your travels. It smelled interesting. I came up to it and… what the bleep? It was like a human, but a small human. And it didn’t open it’s eyes. You can’t really trust something that doesn’t look at you, in my feline opinion.

From that day on, we don’t cuddle as much. You look really tired and you’ve been a bit more grumpy with me. The door to the bedroom was suddenly shut. If I went close to the little human, you didn’t shoo me away, but you did watch me intently and I could feel the stress coming off you. Cats can smell stress, you know? I’m not gonna hurt the human. I just want to get a good sniff of this thing that’s taken over my house.

Speaking of the house… what happened? When it was still fluffy and white outside, cardboard boxes started arriving. At first I thought it was great! Boxes to play in, hide in, jump in. Such good fun. Then those boxes started to get filled with things from around the house. The bookshelves became empty, which did make them easier for me to climb on, but something felt… off.

And then one morning you put Cuik and I in the kennel, drove us around (Cuik yowled the whole way), brought us into a strange new smelling house (I know I can smell dog – not cool!), and locked us in a shiny room with a human litter box for hours. Cuik and I hid behind the human litter box while we heard bumping and thumping from the other side of the door. Then it went quiet, you let us out, and our entire universe was different.


It was almost like it was home, but not. The same things were there, but they were in different places, against new walls, with new views from the glass, and definitely new smells. I even heard a dog bark from below my feet one day. Again – not cool.

As if this weren’t all enough… you left again for what felt like AGES. That guy that Dad sometimes talks to slept in your bed. It was weird. Totally weird. I mean, he fed us, which is awesome, but you and Dad took the little person away with you for forever. I was kinda getting fond of the little person. He opens his eyes now – I can finally trust him.

You FINALLY came back, bringing the little human with you. I was so excited, but you didn’t seem to share my excitement. You were tired, for some reason. You were waking up when it was dark, which isn’t really like you. You kept making lots of cups of that dark brown stuff that makes you happy. You needed that happiness in a cup, it seemed, in order to be a human for the day.

You started bringing cans of coloured liquid into the house that you’d cover the walls in. I mean, if I were to cover the walls with anything you’d lose your sh*t, but apparently it’s okay if you do it, even though it smells funny.

Look, the thing is, without your attention and love, I get bored. Cuik? He can sleep for hours on end. My attention span is kinda low. So, sure, if there are dishes in the sink, I’m going to lick them. If there’s food on the counter, I want to try and eat it. Then, when you get mad at me (I don’t know why…), I sometimes get so upset that I pee. I don’t mean to, well, sometimes I mean to, but I’m just stressed out, you know? I know things can’t go back to the way they used to be, cause you seem to have zero desire to get rid of that little human, but I’d love it if we could bring back certain things from our old life.

Can we cuddle more at night? Can you give me kisses during the day? Can I get the occasional treat, seeing as you seem to have forgotten that treats are a thing? And can you be a bit more patient with me?

I swear that if we work on those things, I’ll behave a bit better. I know I do things I’m not supposed to, but we need to figure out this relationship post-little human.

I love you. We can get there. This little human won’t be the end of us.

See you under the covers in the near future.

Skype (the cat)

Weekly Newsletter & Free eBook!

Signup now for inspiration to live your best life

I agree to have my personal information transfered to MailChimp ( more information )

I will never give away, trade or sell your email address. You can unsubscribe at any time.

, , , , ,

3 Responses to A Heartfelt Letter from Skype the Cat

  1. Dee May 22, 2016 at 4:31 pm #

    Aww that is a great article Victoria, I am so impressed, really well written. So pleased you and Skype have spent time understanding each other’s views. I was a little worried he may be on his way to a shelter after his little indiscretion with your Mac. So hope he settles down. Love Deexx

    • Victoria Smith May 22, 2016 at 5:35 pm #

      At the end of the day, I still love that cat more than a raincoat. The raincoat can be washed. Found myself saying “Please don’t do that Skype,” or ,”Skype please get off the counter.” Not sure he understands the pleasantries.

  2. Amanda May 23, 2016 at 11:47 am #

    Brilliant 🙂

Leave a Reply

CommentLuv badge

Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes

%d bloggers like this: