Thank you so much for the gift you gave me yesterday. I know you put a lot of thought into what you would bring me, as well as where you would leave it in my bedroom. I also know you worked hard to procure said gift, and for that, I am grateful.
You really don't have to bring me gifts though. I already love you, so there's no need to impress me. And since my mom feeds me, there's no need for you to do the same.
I feel like I should add - just so you know for the future - that in the human world, eight-inch skinks are not considered as generous a gift as they are in the cat world. Skinks actually scare me, especially when I find them on the floor at the foot of my bed. The rest of my family was pretty scared too, but you probably figured that out from the screams...especially those coming from my dad, who was understandably a little freaked out when the skink escaped his hands and started crawling up his arm.
In summary, thanks, but no thanks. If you promise not to bring me anymore gifts, I promise to always let you sleep snuggled up with me or nestled in my Beyblade Stadium.
In short, this guy:
Brought this guy:
It was a rough morning for all of us, especially Tux, who upon realizing that his gift had been thrown out into the yard, sat by the front door and refused to make eye contact with me while I tried to take his picture.
Speaking of eye contact, I wasn't able to look directly at the computer screen while typing this post, as the sight of that salamander made me sick to my stomach. I hope everything ended up looking alright!