Since you were honest in your letter, I'll be honest too. The first thing that I did with your letter was tear it up. But don't take that personally. That's just who I am. I tear up things. As my human puts it so eloquently when she wants to break off with someone, ‘it's not you, it's me.'
As for your proposal of us being friends, I have to think about that. It's not like I have something against cats (or you, for that matter). It's just that a cat for me means something for me to play with and sink my teeth into. But I understand. What could be play for me, could mean death for you.'
By and large, as my human will no doubt tell you in the days to come, I am a gentle dog. So gentle in fact that I seriously doubt if I'll ever attack an intruder who breaks into our house. And while it may be argued that as far as dogs go, I may not be a very good guard dog in that sense, but what the human doesn't know won't hurt her. Right?'
Also, what kind of a name is Sockington? Are you a British cat? Do you enjoy your tea and cucumber sandwiches in the evening? Do you wave your hand like the Queen? Ridiculous. Eddie is a far better name.'
And yes, sometimes I do walk like a platypus, but that's because I have a low centre of gravity and big paws. Why don't you try walking around when you have paws the size of mine? Although one could argue that my paws were pawfectly made. Do you like puns, Sockington? (We must find you a shorter name, because I get exhausted just writing it.) How about Socks? Or Socko? Or just S?
Let me know, will you? It'll make this whole letter writing business better.