When I saw this monstrosity floating around the office I’ve never felt so unappreciated. TC’s not even here anymore! She’s off at her country house indefinitely, which if you ask me, sounds like a fancy term for rehab. She always enjoyed the catnip a little too much….
And it’s not like she did much when Animal Planet was here. She was so nervous she didn’t even talk to them. She also didn’t help with this issue at all. I gave the managing editor much needed critiques by inserting interesting characters into her document whenever I got a hold of the keyboard.
Plus, TC’s not the one who chases the laser pointer to entertain the art director, or the one who so nicely stacks all the dead crickets in one convenient location for easy disposal, or the one who gives the managing editor much needed breaks by draping herself across the desk. (The editor is still resistant to this but I think I’m wearing her down, though I do often wake up in a different location.) She’s also not the one who’s always here for the employees whenever they need to talk—or more importantly listen—or cuddle! Put TC on the cover all you want, but she’s not going to cuddle with you. She’s at her country house. I’m taking a nap.
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