Wuz gonna say “Grate Purrrrrformansus,” but u beet meh to “G.”

Jack’s Big Musik Show (for teh kittens)
Kitteh Komestibuls (a fud show)
LOST (wich I hoep yur kittehs nevur getz)

Oooh! I’ll has one of those, 2. kthxhic

I would like to give this poem to your sister, and to her ceiling cat. It is by the great Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska.
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There are lots of poems about our experience of the death of the pets that we love. This is about their experience of the death of their people.
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It is beautiful.
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Cat in an Empty Apartment
by Wislawa Szymborska
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Die - you can’t do that to a cat.
Since what can a cat do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls?
Rub up against the furniture?
Nothing seems different here,
but nothing is the same.
Nothing has been moved,
but there’s more space.
And at nighttime no lamps are lit.
.
Footsteps on the staircase,
but they’re new ones.
The hand that puts fish on the saucer
has changed, too.
.
Something doesn’t start
at its usual time.
Something doesn’t happen
as it should.
Someone was always, always here,
then suddenly disappeared
and stubbornly stays disappeared.
.
Every closet has been examined.
Every shelf has been explored.
Excavations under the carpet turned up nothing.
A commandment was even broken,
papers scattered everywhere.
What remains to be done.
Just sleep and wait.
.
Just wait till he turns up,
just let him show his face.
Will he ever get a lesson
on what not to do to a cat.
Sidle toward him
as if unwilling
and ever so slow
on visibly offended paws,
and no leaps or squeals
at least to start.