My Dear Public,

It is October, and the skies are grey. I should be frolicking in fallen leaves, enjoying the crispness of the air while snuggled inside my quilted 'SECURITY' vest. Despite my propensity towards cutting capers and gamboling, I do take my role as Little Orange Watchman very seriously. One must not think that I am anything but swift and thorough in dispensing justice to those who would attempt entry to my family's home without my consent.

I should say, though, that the job has changed – these days it is, by and large, quite tedious. My lengthy campaign of rodent genocide has effectively removed the local mouse population. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of a squirrel, but they wisely keep to the trees, and away from my premises. Despite all this, it's not an easy job. One must be ever vigilant, and it is rather exhausting.

In order to take some of the pressure off, I installed seventeen motion-sensitive machine-guns on the property. I know they work, because my family can't come down the driveway now, I've been shot at six times, a police cruiser and firetruck have been demolished, and I am all alone in the house. The problems here are twofold: one, I might kill someone I am sworn to protect, and two, my food is locked in a Rubbermaid tub under the sink, and I cannot feed myself. Unfortunately, when I try to turn off the system, I get shot at and have to scurry away. In hindsight, putting the control panel outside the house was not wise, but I figured that it would help me get some extra exercise if I couldn't just turn it on and off from my bed.

If any of you have armoured personnel carriers, can you please, please come and help me? I am not inclined to begging, being a very proud little orange soldier, but if you come, I will let you have the Victoria Cross I was awarded after the Battle of Rorke's Drift. I've been eating out of the dog's dish and I think I'm going to die.

Ever thine,

Marvin Quincy Longbody-Horriblekitten