Kerry McGuire

Deb and I made a video! Watch it! Share it! Before the Oscars happens this Sunday and everything is fixed forever. 

January 1st, the cat woke up, stretched his paws and took a moment to reflect on the year that just ended.

He’d done so much, it had been a glorious success. He’d stretched, he napped, he’d stretched, he’d napped, he’d caught some bugs… it was hard to believe he had been able to fit it all in, he was only able to because he was a perfect being.

But New Year’s Day is a day to resolve to make oneself eve more flawless, so after his morning meal of kat kibble and bowl water, he took a nip of nip and sat down with his cat journal to think of a good New Year’s Resolution.

Dear Journal, he wrote, I must think of a way to improve myself, but it’s difficult because I’m already so practically perfect. My ears are soft, my nose is wet, what else could anyone ask of me? Plus, I sleep 17 hours a day, so I couldn’t even think of sleeping any more and I catch and eat every bug in the apartment before I throw it up somewhere hidden. How can one think of improving on that? I cannot even hope to become more humble as I am the utmost picture of humility.

The cat stopped writing with the pen he was somehow holding between his two paws. Surely, there must be something about himself that he could improve upon, but what was it? His claws? No, they’re already as sharp as razor blades and cut anything they touch. His fur? No again, it already gloriously covers not only him but every item in the apartment. His meow? Impossible, no louder meow could be found, it resounded through the whole building as he paced ceaselessly back and forth throughout the night, every night. What could a practically perfect being hope to improve? He leaned over his journal. It’s hard, dear journal, to think of a New Year’s resolution, but I must if just to keep my close connection with the horribly flawed people of this earth.

The cat puzzled over his dilemma but no answer appeared.

Oh, Journal, he wrote, perhaps it is hopeless. I cannot improve. I am too perfect. My only flaw is this: I cannot make a New Year’s Resolution.

The cat threw down his cat pen in frustration and tossed aside his cat journal. Fie, he thought, it is impossible, and I need to take a smelly poop in my litter box and track the litter all around so everyone knows that I did it… Then it hit him. The answer.

He grabbed his cat journal and the discarded pen and pressed it to the paper. That’s it, dear Journal! I shall resolve to not make a resolution! Having made a resolution, I will have kept the tradition that keeps me close to the disgustingly flawed humans of the earth, but because my resolution will be to not change, I will not have to alter any aspect of my absolutely perfect being! Dear Journal, it is the perfect plan. Write it, set it, done. The cat took a breath, pausing for a minute from his furious scribbling. Thank you, Journal, and Happy New Year to you, and all of your Journal brothers and sisters. I hope you find the time to visit them in the stationary store this year.

Love is emotionally draining and time-consuming—who needs it? Not you, that’s for sure! It can be a real hassle to keep from loving people; they have soft skin, they smell good, and sometimes they have sex with you. How can you avoid developing tender feelings in spite of those tempting benefits