Henry deposited this dispatch at the front door and requested that I transcribe it for his reading public. You'll find his missive in its entirety below, along with some images inserted at Henry's direction.
-Feeder
Greetings.
Henry, here.
This letter may come as a surprise as I felt it inopportune to contact you previously. I am a cat, but I do fancy myself a bit of a linguist. I’ve been observing humans for awhile now and find this present moment a propitious one in which to break my silence.
I have toiled arduously to establish communication with Pudge the Pig. Porcine languages tend toward the extensive and varied use of the grunt – pigs grunt sonorously when they sleep, they grunt with agitation and even affection when they are awake, and I won’t even begin to describe the elocutionary gymnastics that I’ve navigated when they spy a Feeder who is not actively engaged in the act of bringing them food. You would do well to make note of this intonation, as you, specifically, are often the cause of such distress.
I feel dutybound to inform you of Pudge’s general lack of satisfaction with his station in life. As the junior boar – and here one must note how significantly junior he is to Jorge, in the matter of several feet and more than one hundred pounds – circumstances are not optimal. Pudge is often shoved away from the best feed, and I shudder to note the frequency with which Jorge unthinkingly walks over him. Pudge may seem emotionally impervious, but he really is quite a sensitive fellow, and these slights do sting. As the most junior pig at the Patch, he confided in me that he fervently desires to demonstrate his worth to the seemingly dismissive and far more mature pigs.
Sadly, we cannot all maintain the stoic and unflappable demeanor that I do, and Pudge’s current upset is worthy of attention. I accept your gratitude for bringing it to your attention and will make further inquiries regarding potential courses of action that you, as Feeder, might take.
With all sincerity, your servant,
Henry
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