Letter #3

Posted by: on Dec 7, 2010 | No Comments

In Craisin’s long-awaited response, we learn that life away from the war can be just as difficult when you are patient zero in a massive flea epidemic. For the uninitiated, get caught up here and here.

On the sixth day of December in the year of our Lord, two thousand and ten,

To my brave and loving Kermy,

How it pains me to hear of the trials you suffer and the labors which dampen your spirits. Though I am overjoyed to hear about your sudden good fortune in kibble supply, it so greatly distresses me to picture the freezing, interminable conditions of your daily occupations.

Although I feel it would be negligent to compare the trifles of home to your daily toils, I cannot pretend that life here has been easy. We have been stricken by a most egregious flea infestation, the likes of which we have not seen since the great invasion of ’87. Those were terrible times, truly, as are these. I was first identified as the basis of the epidemic, and remained in quarantine for several days, after which it was determined that, in fact, Fritter was the true source. I have not seen Fritter since this revelation came to pass, and I suspect he now resides with the whiskered angels above. Such a poor fellow!

This turn of events has left our house scarred, and no amount of Fancy Feast will let me soon forget that one of our own has paid the ultimate price for this unexpected, itchy outbreak. Oh, Kermy! It casts a shadow across my furry soul to tell you even I have turned to catnip as a means to escape the drudgery of these uncertain times. I know this is a harlot’s remedy, but I will warrant it for a little while.

Hunger necessitates that I end this correspondence, so I shall leave you with these final remarks. The depths of my longing for you are endless, Kermy – this letter does little to convey my full range of expression in that regard. When your epistles don’t arrive it is always a most severe disappointment, as I do relish each one of your dear words. It may feel as if your faculties have dulled, but I am sure that when your eyes rest once more on that old familiar food bowl and litterbox, you will feel yourself restored.

Yours, with licks and purrs,

Craisin