The Incorrigible Night Owl

Dear Cosmo,
When, in an effort to curry your favor and affection, thereby securing my possessions from being urinated upon, I open the door to let you out and it’s raining, snowing, sleeting, or otherwise nasty, there is no need to glare at me balefully as you saunter away from the door, nose high in the air, on your way to sleep for the next ten hours in comfort on my bed. Despite the fact that I procure your food in a manner which is inexplicable to you and make your litter box deposits disappear, seemingly magically, I am, in fact, not omnipotent and cannot control the weather. It is not my fault.
Sincerely,
The Human