Dear stupid shitting cat that keeps shitting in my garden, would you PLEASE STOP SHITTING IN MY GARDEN. That vegetable patch was not lovingly deweeded, double-digged and raked to be used at your convenience as a giant litter tray. What the fuck am I supposed to do with those courgettes now that you’ve trampled them down on top of a series of subterranean steamers?
Dear stupid shitting cat that keeps shitting in my garden, this spring I have set aside a small patch next to the compost heap within which you are free to privately do your cat-business. Any violations and I will be forced to put down saucers of single cream laced with crushed-up sleeping pills then throw you in the Taff.
Dear stupid cat, I appreciate it when you play with Kate’s sister’s little girl but can you please stop leaving half-dead sparrows on the mat outside the kitchen door. Everyone else thinks you are super cute but I know that you are actually a VILE MURDEROUS TORTURER.
Dear cat, can you please stop inviting yourself into our kitchen and eating the Meow Mix that Kate leaves out for you. Between you and her sister’s little girl you’re making her super broody.
Dear Estragon, Kate thought it was about time you had a name. Apparently I talk about you so much it would be more polite to name you than keep referring to you as ‘that stupid shitting cat’ in front of her sister’s little girl.
Dear Simba, as you can see, your name has changed. Kate’s sister’s little girl is to blame as she struggled with the Beckett reference. She loves you almost as much as Kate does and she wanted to choose you a better name. Just so you know, I’ve got my eye on you. Your type might control the internet but you’ll never control my domestic life.
Dear cat, I haven’t seen you yet this spring. I included the word ‘yet’ in that last sentence because I still believe you will turn up. Did mine and Kate’s shouting scare you away?
Dear cat, you’re still not here and neither is Kate. I guess I somehow knew that you weren’t coming back because I’ve gone back to calling you cat again. I feel like I’m losing everyone. The last thing Kate said to me before leaving for her sister’s was, ‘I’ll miss that stupid shitting cat more than I’ll miss you.’
Dear stupid shitting cat that kept shitting in my garden, would you please come back to my garden, please…
Wales Arts Review will be publishing exclusive new Flash Fiction pieces all week in celebration of National Flash Fiction Day on Saturday 27th June.