Listen to Me, Wanker! I’m Your Cat, I Know You, and You’re No Ted Lasso.

It’s high time for a reality check.

Hello Wanker,

Yep, that’s your new name; Food Bringer just didn’t cut it anymore. I’ve had enough of being polite; you don’t deserve me at my best and barely merit my worst. Yep, these are my claws on your tummy. I’ve been waiting 3 months for this.

I know you would prefer to be called Ted Lasso, but, let’s be serious for a minute here, you’re not Ted Lasso.

The only sport you could be a coach for, the only sport I’ve seen you practice in the last ten years, involves throwing undies in the dirty laundry basket. And, while there’s indeed a Competitive Underwear Throwing League (CUTL), you’re not good at it.

We can talk about your coaching abilities all you want. Feedback is a gift, as you said when putting my pretty cutie little face in the lump of poo that accidentally got stuck on my butt and fell off on the couch afterward, yes! It was an accident.

Be aware that Ted Lasso would have known it to be an accident. He would also have been considerate and understood, unlike you, how mortified I was. Being clean, scrubbed, and polished, is to me, unlike you again, of utmost importance. Ted Lasso, not you, would have been tactful.

Ted Lasso asks for feedback.

I’m no goldfish, by the way, I remember you promised a new cat tree for Christmas, five years ago.

The fact that I ate the goldfish shouldn’t be held against me for so long. Haven’t you heard of the statute of limitations? Ted Lasso knows how to forgive.

He also cares about each member of his team; individually. He observes, pays attention, and understands them. What do you know about me? Have you taken the time to ask about my day lately?

Nope, I don’t think so.

There’s not a single ounce of love in your gestures when you put food or water in my bowls. And don’t let me start on the litter. What’s this face you’re making when, too rarely, you clean it? It’s not like the smell is preventing you from spending fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet and gaping at your phone when your turn comes.

And let’s not talk about taking one for the team. You’re not a team player. You’re a young Jamie Tart. It’s all about you. I mean, for Purina’s sake, you get yourself caviar and premium salmon every week, and I get kibble? Seriously?

The only thing that could link you to Ted Lasso, the only name I can agree on calling you that is somehow related to Ted is Wanker. It fits you and your living style. This you can do, metaphorically and literally.

And even though you usually close the door; sometimes, you forget. The things I saw! I won’t write about them; you know perfectly well what I have in mind. Let me say that it puts into perspective the little poo accident from the couch. Yes, Wanker! It was an accident.

We can truly say that the pandemic has been a gift of the Gods for you. I knew what you could do from looking at you during the weekends, but you managed to reach new heights. I must say I’m impressed.

How can a wanker like you pull this off day after day without your manager noticing or your wrist breaking? Beats me! I’m something of a wanker myself, but, by Whiskas, you’re the true professional.

So, Wanker!

If you want to avoid relegation, and one day, maybe, thinking of being called Ted Rope (that’s the best I can do), take an example of your new hero. Don’t be a goldfish, Wanker! Remember to change my litter more than once a year. Scrub it clean and make it shiny. That’s what Ted Lasso would do.

The Cat (call me Rebecca, I’m your boss).

With thanks to Sarah Cords and her piece Enough With Opening Your Heart and Our Home to Rescue Pets Already for the inspiration!