Dear Morty aka Captain Klaw aka too smart for his own good
I know, we went to the Stinky Doctor Place and they stole your blood. I also went back a second time on the same day, an 80km round trip I might add, to pick up those horrible big could-choke-a-horse pills so that you would feel better.
Now, you're OK with the night time dose in your dinner, but really? Must we play hide and seek every morning, or that fun 'chasing the geriatric cat' game? And then,
when I manage to catch you, for the first time in 17 years of us being together, you turn into the Slasher? Ow! For Pete's sake, mate, the times I have managed to get the pill down you it's gone easily enough, so why the claw drama? I know you're only trying to stop me, but dude, seriously, when those little claws dig in and stay in, it really hurts. And bleeds. And makes my next pottery class both uncomfortable and a potential infection risk.
Please keep the drama llama stuff down, okay? Otherwise you and I are going to have to play the purrito game.
The human pincushion, slowly healing but still tender. (Anyone got any bandaids?)