Automatic Litterbox Central

A few years ago in the pet forum of craigslist, occasionally someone would post a 'letter' to their cat named Bubba Chunk. Everyone would get a chuckle from the letters and this cat's antics. Sometimes months would go by before we saw another letter to Bubba Chunk, then out of the blue, one would show up. Bubba Chunk developed quite a fanbase from the letters his owner would post in the forum. I have gathered all the letters in one place so when I feel down, I can read them and have a laugh at this crazy cat. Here are the letters as they appeared on craigslist. No one knows who wrote them and the owner has never come forward.

Monday, April 17, 2006
Dear Kitty 11:43 PM Edit Delete
You are fat. I know it's my fault that you look like a bubba chunk but here's the deal; I am putting you on a diet but until it kicks in you cannot continue to leave skid marks on my floor. I know that hairy hiney is difficult to clean so when I shave your ass it's a favor to you. Believe me I have no desire to hold your tail in the air and run my husband's clipper blades over your nether parts but that's life. I am deeply sorry for embarrassing you but the fresh hairball on my pillow was overkill

Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 1:47 AM Edit Delete
You are not starving. Trust me you can live on lite kitty food. No it is NOT poison and no I don't hate you even though I suspect you hate me right now. Just because you are no longer being allowed to hoover up an entire great dane sized bowl of cat food does not mean you will wither away. It also does not mean that everything that hits the floor is food. Most particularly it doesn't mean when I drop a laxative that you should suck it up like like it's haggondaz. Despite the dirty looks you keep giving me you have only yourself to blame for your repeated assplosions. In the future please refrain from leaping onto my lap and dribbling your digestive remnants onto me and the furniture. You will not thank me for this but I will be thankful to have the joy of your presence for years to come (provided you refrain from leaking everywhere). Much love from she who is still cleaning the furniture.

Monday, April 24, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 11:21 PM Edit Delete
I know that tables sometimes have food on them but it is always, always people food, it will never be food for you. Attempting to launch yourself onto the table will gain you nothing. In fact I venture to say that if you decide to pull the tablecloth AND my dinner down onto your head again not only will I laugh at you; I will also post pictures of it so others can laugh to. The disgusted look you gave me when you realized it was salad was priceless I feel your pain and because I love you I am dieting with you but this fiendish hunt for food must end. Your addiction is starting to scare me. The way you watch me as I sleep is especially worrisome, it's like you are wondering how I would taste. Waking up to the eerie glow of your eyes mere inches from my neck is startling to put it mildly. Remember biting the hand, or neck that feeds you is frowned upon. love, the mean mom that's starving you.

Monday, May 1, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 1:22 AM Edit Delete
I had a talk with the doctor and well I have some bad news for you. Sadly all good things come to an end and that time is now. Wait, wait I didn't mean YOUR doctor don't look so upset. It's just that I have been seeing the chiropractor for a year now and well he says the reason that my back always hurts is because of you. All 20 pounds of you spraddled on top of me like a sack of cement. You use me like your own personal heating pad (despite your all too abundant insulation) and if I dare turn over, the sabers of death are applied to my tender buttocal region. I'm old and I need my sleep. I also need fresh air. Even with the window wide open your nightly emissions are overpowering and flicking your tail over my nose doesn't dissipate them although it does wake me up enough to get the full "enjoyment". Sadly, despite the wonderful job you do chaperoning me, I would actually like to get lucky occasionally without worrying that you will play claw the dingle dangles(please remember if they are not filled with catnip.....they aren't play toys, not for you anyway). So as of tonight, despite your mournful cries, despite that pitiful paw waving under the door, you must make do with the heated, sheepskin lined extra, extra large bed that I went out and bought just for you. Who am I kidding; I lasted a full 10 minutes before I caved. You have broken me; I am putty in your evil paws.

Monday, May 8, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 9:22 AM Edit Delete
one empty jar of mayonnaise $3.95 one fat thieving cat $45.00 and counting, an evening spent prying the jar off a very greasy and extremely pissed cat......priceless.

Monday, May 15, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 9:46 AM Edit Delete
Thank you for your thoughtful gift, however in the future there are a few things I would like you to remember when choosing a gift for me. 1. I prefer to receive gifts only when I am awake and fully functioning rather than at 6 a.m. Really, presentation is an important part of gift giving and dropping your gift onto someone's head is not the best way to go. 2. This is the really important one so pay attention!! I strongly disapprove of live animals as gifts. I cannot stress this enough. All animals to be honest but most importantly snakes!! If you ever drop a snake on my head at 6 a.m again, gift or not, my bedroom will be closed to you forevermore. Love, your still slightly hysterical mommy

Monday, May 22, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 1:19 AM Edit Delete
Why do you always have to learn the hard way? How many times have I told you that you are not a delicate little kitten any more. Let me break it down for you. You are a big boy now, a really, really big boy. Leaping onto things as if you weigh no more than a dandelion results in breakage and in this case a very angry cat. Don't give me that LOOK this was all you buddy. I know its a nice warm place to sit and the view is enchanting but I have placed at your disposal soft comfy beds, cat trees and window perches for your sleeping pleasure. In the future please refrain from sitting on the square glass thing filled with water. It is not, as you seem to believe an all night kitty sushi bar, its a fish tank. The fish do not appreciate you dropping in, along with their light, at 4 a.m. Frankly neither do I. There is nothing more likely to make me cranky than being awoken in the dead of night to the squalls of a huge wet cat trying to scramble out of a small water filled tank. Love sleepy mom P.S for future reference "sleeps with the fishes" should not be taken literally.

Monday, May 29, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 1:06 AM Edit Delete
It's time to tell you the truth. You are adopted. I know I should have told you earlier but I could never seem to find the right time and well I kind of hoped you would figure it out. After all we don't look that much alike. You have a lot more hair than I do, we don't eat the same food and, here’s a big difference, I can't see in the dark. This means that when you feel the need to review your dinner I would humbly ask that you do so somewhere other than the rug next to my bed. Feeling something warm and solid between my toes in the wee hours tends to upset me. I really shouldn't complain though. At least the rug is less embarrassing than your last choice, I really feel I deserve an explanation for that one. Were you upset that we had company? Did you just not like her? I thought I would sink through the floor when she reached into her purse and pulled out your moist and quite substantial deposit. The shriek she gave as she flung it across the room and the meaty thud when it hit the window and slowly slid down still flashes into my mind at odd moments. It may be why I occasionally giggle out loud. The question remains though, how did you manage to place it so perfectly in her purse? I hate to be suspicious but I saw you sitting there watching her and I could swear I saw you smirking when she reached inside. It's almost as if you did it on purpose but that can't be true, you’re a cat, cats don't plan things. Right? Hhhmm I think I'll hide the car keys just in case. P.s I'm taking the dry cleaning bill out of your catnip funds.


Saturday, June 3, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 11:53 PM Edit Delete
Boy you've got some explaining to do buddy. I should have known something was up when you made yourself scarce but silly me I chalked it up to the chaos of spring cleaning. Now I know it was guilt! O.k I knew about the hole you dug in the box springs already but I thought you got too fat...er...outgrew it. Fooled me didn't you? What I really want to know is what possible need you could have for 3 ballpoint pens. Are you writing your memoirs? Why hide the visa bill from January that I got a late fee for? Believe me boyo I'll be checking the charges on that. You owe me a new pillow bowie wondered where all the feathers went. Shame on you for letting me think it was the dog! One very dead potato bug *shudder* I'll have nightmares about that. Eewww and one really dead-on never mind, thank goodness it was just an old hairball. Why did you save that one? It's not nearly as impressive as the one you left on my keyboard. One of my gold earrings, two scrunchies and a pair of my panties. Is there something I should know? Thirteen catnip mice, that’s more nip than any cat needs. I think it's time we had the talk. The more you know.... At least one mystery is solved. I now know why I can only find one sock out of every pair. I wonder if there's a support group for mothers of klepto kitties.

Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 11:01 AM Edit Delete
It was one weekend. One. Lousy. Weekend. You were so very thoughtful to make our trip get off to a good start. Rushing to leave for the airport is always fun but having you teleport out the door and up a thirty foot tree made it even better. The joy of seeing you loll on that tree branch as we frantically tried to find the ladder was overwhelming. Finding it only to watch you mince your way down and leisurely walk to the door was even better. I know you are glad we didn't miss the plane. All the thoughtful going away gifts you left me were deeply appreciated. What better way to start a romantic getaway than to have your lover lean over on the plane, sniff you and whisper " You smell like cat piss". Thank you Bubba Chunk for peeing on the only pair of shoes I brought, I thought of you every time I put them on. Opening my bag that evening in the hotel was sure a surprise. Nothing says Bon Voyage like a rodent head on my brand new negligee. It's so much more romantic than candles to see your lover scream and fling something across the room. I didn't wear the gown though, somehow I felt the mood would be ruined by the stain on the breast and anyway we were kind of tired from crawling on the hotel floor looking for your little present. I know you were glad to see us when we got home even though you hid it well. The house sitter said that you really missed us, she could tell because you spent the entire time clawing our mattress. I had no idea that you could actually disembowel a queen size mattress in 48 hours. I suppose I should just be thankful it was the mattress and not the house sitter. Your joy upon our arrival was quite electric, literally, since you peed on the power bar and blew out all the breakers. A simple purr will be sufficient in the future. Thank you Bubba for making my vacation unforgettable and for the new shoes I bought out of your cat nip funds.

Saturday, November 25, 2006
Dear Bubba Chunk 2:50 AM Edit Delete
When I have Thanksgiving dinner at my house there are a few rules you must follow: Please do not greet guests by flopping down in front of them, raising your leg and taking deep enjoyment in grooming your nether regions extensively. No one was amused. If you could also refrain from oozing under the table during dinner and proceeding to deposit the hair you recently collected with nauseating sound effects that would great too. Also if you must eject a hairball next time please try to miss my fussy sister's brand new shoes. BTW The dry cleaning bill is coming out of your treat fund.... again! Okay I can forgive you for all of the above but I better never catch you molesting my dinner again!! I don't know if anyone will ever forget the sight of you straddling that turkey as you tried to carry it to my bedroom. How you managed to get the remains of a 20 pound turkey off the counter and halfway across the kitchen remains a mystery but I'm sure you'll be happy to know that Grandma didn't break anything when she slipped on the greasy trail you left. However she was very upset that you tromped through BOTH of her pumpkin pies to get to the turkey. And just to let you know, I am not fond of spending Thanksgiving evening locked in the bathroom trying to degrease a very angry cat so in the future please consider not sticking your entire furry head into the turkey just to taste the stuffing. I suspect you will find coal in your stocking this year, at any rate I can guarantee it won't be turkey!

Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Dear Bubba Chunk 3:57 PM Edit Delete
Just a few words about our new puppy. There is no need for you to drag him up the stairs to the food bowl and pin him in it and I don't like the implications. He is not your dinner!! There is also no need for you to lick him quite so much. He is not a sardine lollipop. Remember; You can love your new pet but don't LOVE him. With that in mind; please stop trying to be "romantic" with the new puppy. It's creepy, you are a C.A.T have some dignity. Also you are quite... uummm... "fluffy" and he is, shall we say, petite. It's like watching David Spade trying to bench press Jared pre-subway. When all I can see of the puppy is one frantic little eye... it's a bit unnerving. I'm sorry, I know you were startled when I ran up screaming. It's just that when I saw you laying there like a big,fat,hairy boa constrictor with a tiny tail poking out of your mouth, for a minute I thought you'd swallowed him whole. In the future please do not embrace the puppy quite so enthusiastically. In other words, Stop. Screwing. The . Pooch. Much love from the lady who doesn't want a burlesque show in her living room.

Thursday, April 5, 2007
Dear Bubba Chunk 1:13 PM Edit Delete
I know it's spring and I know you would very much like to go outside, right this darn minute please!! I realize you believe I am unusually dense for a human and you must make your point but throwing yourself at every opening door is excessive. For instance there is no magical exit to the outer world from the bathroom. So WHY must you blast between my legs only to give me a pissy look when you almost land in the toilet? I'd like to add that while the birdies are fascinating the windows are still solid, same as always. When you throw your portliness against them it shakes the entire house, it's quite distracting. I am beginning to wonder which will crack first......me or the window. You should be pleased to know that you have succeeded in making me feel guilty every time I go outside. The sight of your pitiful face pressed against the glass haunts me as I weed. Last year in a misguided attempt to appease you I brought home that evil bondage device. After having it re-sized I still remember the joy of trying to buckle it over your ample...er, bay window. I will never forget the look of contempt on your face as you somehow, in the space of a breath, slithered out of something that it took 20 minutes to stuff you into. I gracefully conceded defeat but that was not satisfaction enough for the insult to your person was it? I hope you realize I am still finding bits of the chandelier here and there. Who knew it would actually explode on impact. In order to forestall a repeat(or worse) of last spring(now known as the week of terror) a large pile of lumber will be deposited in the yard tomorrow. I beg of you have patience with this pitiful human, I can only hammer so fast. One last thing, please remember that if you trip me and I break a leg it will slow construction of your summer abode.

Monday, May 14, 2007
Dear Bubba Chunk 10:29 AM Edit Delete
As I struggle with the childproof latch I remember that day when I came home with some friends and my house smelled so good, clean and fresh like spring rain. I was leading them to the guest bathroom off the laundry room when to their surprise I suddenly wind milled drunkenly across the floor. I had just enough time to be thankful I was wearing flats before my butt met the floor. When my friend flipped on the light the sight that greeted us was simply amazing. My walls had somehow become dappled in a light blue. Here and there were lovely feathered arcs with irregular splotches spaced randomly between them. In a bizarre 3-D effect white "clouds" floated on the blue. Even my washer and dryer had been masterfully redone. The white on blue on white was reminiscent of an exquisitely painted sky. I heard a giggle behind me and in a choked voice my friend muttered "Bubba Chunk". We both knew the magnitude of this mess had your paw prints all over it, in this case literally. There beside me on the floor lay two economy sized jugs. Under them I could see the slowly spreading pools of fabric softener and laundry soap, the sources of that spring like scent. Over in a corner I could see the gutted remains of what used to be my down pillow thus explaining the white "clouds" everywhere. Of you however there was no sign until I happened to glance in the laundry basket filled with my once neatly folded clothes. You glowered out at me from deep in your clothes nest but the effect was rather spoiled by the feathers glued to your ruff. I skated across the floor to you while my friend dialed the vet to seek advice on the latest Bubba Chunk escapade. As I began to pluck you I could hear my *good* friend snickering as she relayed the vet's instructions; "Get all the soap off him and dry him well before you bring him in".

Entertaining for sure! (Glad he's not MY cat!)