3 | June 30, 2020

3

Darling Eds,

I quite like Eds actually. Much better than Eddie. It’s short and sweet. Just like you. I’m not body shaming you or anything, but you must realize that you’re terribly short, right? And you may call me Socks, although I do prefer kicking it back to old school and calling each other by our proper names and not abbreviations.
But you have the attention span of a fly, so I won’t press this upon you. See how empathetic I am?
I must tell you about lunch, Eds. But let me first paint you a picture of me right now. I’m on the rug in my human’s study. He’s working on a presentation, and between you and me, he’s looking a bit stressed. I just finished licking myself, and I was going to settle in for a nap, when I remembered that I must write to you. So I got myself a clean sheet of paper, a pencil, and now well, here we are.
So lunch.
Human has found this new place apparently that home delivers fresh meals for pets. I was very, very skeptical, obviously because I’m skeptical about almost everything in life. I hate new places. I like familiarity. Buuuut, as it turns out Eds, whatever this new place is, they know exactly how I like my fish.
Which has now left me conflicted. Because on one hand, I don’t want to like this place, because it’s new. And on the other hand, I really like this place. Can you imagine the kind of things I’ve been missing out on, just because I’ve been to afraid to try them. The opportunities are endless, Eds. And my world as I know it, is now for the taking.
Anyway.
My eyes are closing right now. I blame the fish. Hope you had a good lunch or breakfast or whatever. Write back. Or don’t. Whatever.
See you soon.

Yawningly yours,

Sockington