If I Only Had a Bed
Dear Great and Powerful Oz:
Just last week my husband and I received a peculiar letter. We are sending it to you as it contains a request that we cannot figure out a solution to. We have tried to get our dear Audrina a bed, but she refuses to sleep in it. We have given her toys; she refuses to play with them. We have given her just about everything we could think of, but nothing makes her happy.
Will you please read her letter and grant her whatever it is she needs to be happy. I fully concur with her wishes, as does my husband. Her desire is our desire.
To the people who apparently “own” me,
I have been thinking about this for some time now, and I can no longer hold back. You may have noticed I have not been easy to get along with. According to the feral cat who keeps visiting our backyard, he thinks I have become a down right grump. While I do not think “Mr. I Don’t Have Home” knows what he is talking about, I will admit I might have been a little sensitive.
I am irritated, if you want to know the truth. The fact you refuse to call me by name and have called me Kitten my entire life is bothersome. I will get to that another day. I have something more pressing.
I just can’t find a spot in this entire house. Every now and then I find an amazing box, and I feel so excited and happy. And just as I start getting comfortable, you go and throw it away. You have done this for 5 years now—yes, I have been counting. And I find myself saying, “If I only had a bed.”
Would you find it in your heart—and wallet, if necessary—to get me a bed that I love, can call my own and feel like I have a place in this chaotic home.