Halala Mama

Dear Moshe and Tembo,

We need to talk.  Really.

You know how much Ismael hates you, and you should know how I always stick up for you saying, “C’mon, they’re just cats,”  but lately you have been stepping over the line.

You’ve lived with me for what, seven years now?  Yes, they have been good years, but even after all this time, you are unemployed.  I begged you those first years to please just get a job, contribute to the family income.  Your answer?  I believe you laid in a sunny patch and took a bath, which we all know means you licked your butt.  In the living room. I thought maybe you would learn to do the dishes or contribute in some other way, but no, you were insolent teenagers from the minute I brought you home.

So okay, I’ve learned to live with your shortcomings, as you have learned to live with mine.

But, waking me up at 4 AM this morning?  By vomiting next to my bed?  Or pawing Ismael’s mouth in the middle of the night? You know who I’m talking to Moshe.

And Tembo, don’t think you’re innocent in all this.  That incessant yowling you do whenever I walk in the kitchen so that you can have a can of food rather than your dry?  So that you can take two bites and then walk away?  Yeah, that’s got to stop too.

It’s not an idle threat anymore when I promise to open the back door and give you all your freedom or to put you on Craigslist.  I’ve done it before; you know I’ll do it again.

I’m not so sure Ismael is joking when he talks about some Togolese he knows who don’t have the same idea about the food chain that we do.

I believe it’s about time to remember just how good you have it here in the Halala Mama household, and if you won’t pull your weight and do your share, at least do no harm.

Let’s promote a harmonious co-existence.  Please?

Thanks!

PS.  Get your butts off of the new chairs…

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