After giving considerable weight to the issue, I’ve reached a painful conclusion about my living situation: my cat, Chaz, needs to be evicted. While I initially thought that Chaz would be a welcome novelty during the monotony of a COVID-compromised school year, he’s growing into both a nuisance and terror. If he were literate, I would be severely worried about my safety returning home after publishing this piece. His behavior is problematic and he has made it fully apparent that he refuses to consider reform; something must change. 

First, I need Chaz to seek gainful employment, or at least find some productive way to fill his days. The rest of his housemates, though afflicted by senioritis, at least have school responsibilities to take care of during the day. Chaz, on the other hand, refuses to claw his way out of the crushing grip of inertia. He spends the majority of his time laying by the door or under the table, slowly blinking his eyes or sleeping for extended periods of time. He has full access to the Internet (even with the glacial pace of Spectrum), but hasn’t explored a single employment option, much less submitted any applications. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by his free loading one bit and hasn’t contributed a single penny to subsidize his cost of living. 

First, I need Chaz to seek gainful employment, or at least find some productive way to fill his days.” 

Chaz also takes up an obnoxious amount of space in the townhouse. After a long day, all I want to do is sink into the maws of the couch, but Chaz frequently occupies an entire half(!) of the sofa. His fur and fat balloon out around him, turning him into a disc of obstruction that offers only snarky gazes for loungers looking to sit with him. My arms simply don’t have the strength to continually lift him from his perch, so he can dominate the living room furniture at will. 

He could help this issue by dieting or exercise, but Chaz categorically refuses to work out consistently. I’ve seen him move when he hears a can of food cracking open or a bag of treats rustling, so I know that he has athletic potential. However, he simply refuses to commit to his physical fitness. Even if I can convince him to do sit ups to swipe my hands off his belly or to run wind sprints in pursuit of his laser, he won’t take the initiative to take care of himself independently. It’s painful to watch him succumb to obesity, but I simply don’t have the disposable time to force him into shape. 

I don’t receive any payment for cleaning up around the place, but Chaz might have you believe otherwise. He spreads food around his bowl, doesn’t change his own litter, and sheds all over the place. This cat can’t even keep himself cleansed; he frequently smells of excrement and breathes absolute fire. It honestly sickens me that he doesn’t have the dignity to meet basic hygienic standards, but I’ve yet to see him prioritize cleanliness.

I’m losing blood and sleep over Chaz. His claws have inflicted significant damage on my hands and his presence has gained ample ground in my nightmares. I’ve tried to help him, but he’s obstinately proved over and over that improvement is out of the question. For the sake of my sanity and productivity I’m going to have to serve him papers soon.