Ask Whiskers: Advice for all Nine Lives

Dear Whiskers,

I can’t help but feel that my family doesn’t appreciate all the hard work I do. Even though I do everything right, I’m always getting scolded! Every day, they say “Mittens! Get off of the table!” or “Be quiet, Mittens, it’s not dinnertime,” or worst of all, “Mittens! For God’s sake it’s 3 o'clock in the morning-- knock it off!”

Don’t they know I wake up every morning at 3 o’clock for their sake? It’s almost like they don’t want me to protect them from the Faceless Man. The other day, it almost got the baby! Thank goodness I was awake to hear her crying--when I got to her room, I saw it reaching for her with slimy gray hands, its featureless face splitting open to reveal rows upon rows of needled teeth. I jumped into her crib in the knick of time. But then, the rest of the family barged in and accused me of attacking her! Can you believe it?!

What’s more is the Faceless Man knows I’m the one taking the heat for its misdeeds. So now, it’s taunting me, I swear! This morning, I caught the thing trying to knock Nana’s urn down from above the fireplace. It stood next to the sofa in its usual attire-- an oversized trench coat, work boots, and a bowler hat-- and was nudging the urn along with an iron poker. I leapt upon the shelf and thwarted its efforts of course, but when Todd saw me pushing the urn back into place, he threatened me with a newspaper!

A newspaper! What am I, a fly? Even though Nana told her son that I was saving her ashes, he still acted like I was some sort of vandal! He chased me around the living room for almost twenty minutes, despite Nana’s shouting to “leave the poor cat alone.” Oh, how I miss when Nana was alive-- Todd always listened to her back then.

The worst part of all this is I can hear that dreadful creature laughing at me. Last Tuesday, it uprooted all the plants while the family was out. I repotted each and every single one before they came home. And what did I get to show for it? Well, when Lucille saw the muddy paw prints on the rug, she screamed; Todd swore; the baby started crying, and Emily whisked me away into a bathtub for crying out loud! The whole time she had me in there, I could see that abominable figure looming over her, even as I hissed and squirmed. Its chest was rising and falling in time with a noise like razor blades on gravel-- a despicable excuse of a laugh.

Luckily for Emily, once the shampoo came out I was able to slip away. I gave that horrid Faceless Man the chase of the century, before Lucille finally nabbed me and stuck me back in the tub. She was mumbling something about me getting mud and soap all over the place-- not a word of thanks, mind you.

I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong here. Ever since I’ve taken this family under my protection, I’ve only been sworn, shouted, and swatted at. I’ve never experienced something like this in all my three lives! I refuse to leave them defenseless, but I feel so unappreciated. What’s a faithful cat like me to do, Whiskers?

Mittens, 4, Chicago

Dear Mittens,

This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve heard a predicament like yours, and it certainly won’t be the last. Believe it or not, my own family still doesn’t quite grasp the magnitude of what we do!

The last family I was with was similarly ungrateful. I had taken in two adults and their son, Wesley. Now, I was particularly fond of Wesley. He was a sweet kid, who, like most kids, had the tendency to put his schoolwork off to the very last minute.

As you may or may not be familiar, such poor habits tend to attract imps-- nasty little buggers who live for panic and thrive in chaos. For as long as people have been around, imps have been around, wreaking small havoc wherever they get the chance.

Anyhow, I tirelessly defended Wesley’s work from the likes of the imps. I rolled on his notebooks; I sprawled across his keyboard; I even knocked all his pens under the bed to hide them. All of this was done in a mighty effort to keep those malevolent beings from desecrating his hours of labor.

Then, one day, the unthinkable happened: Wesley locked me out of his room! He had some sort of assignment due that very night, and I could hear the imps hooting and cackling maniacally within. I mewed and yowled and scratched desperately at the door, but to no avail. When he finally opened the door, the damage had been done: his computer glowed royal blue, and the clock struck midnight. I could see tears welling up in his eyes.

Ohh how I tore into those imps. I surely made it into their history books (if they even have such a thing), for such an onslaught had never been seen. They surely never bothered poor Wesley again. And I can assure you I was never locked out of his workspace thereafter.

My point is, it’s important to remember that the humans’ senses aren’t quite as keen as ours. While we might know that such disturbances like doors slamming or glasses breaking or babies crying are caused by the Others (like your Faceless Man or some impudent imps), humans are so oblivious that they blame things like the wind, or electricity-- or even us!

The only advice I can give here is: be patient. At the end of the day, I am sure your family will express their gratitude through tributes and affection, even if they aren’t quite aware of why they’re supposed to be grateful. At the very least, I am quite sure Nana understands much more of your motives now than she ever did before!

Even so, rest assured that you are doing the right thing. Pay no mind to any naive or petty accusations-- humans are notorious for believing only what they see. I applaud your hard work, and you should be proud, too.

Wishing you all the best in your endeavors,

Whiskers

P.S. I’ve tangled with a few Faceless Men back in my fifth life. From experience, I’ve found that tying their bootlaces together incapacitates them for about a week at a time. Cheers!