Dear Chumley,

I'm sorry to hear about your kidney disease, but requests for me to come over and massage your prostate are unacceptable. Your prostate has nothing to do with your kidney, Chumley. I may not have an education, but I'm no dummy.

Love, Beverly

Dear Laura,

While I appreciate you telling me about the emails Beverly has been supposedly been sending your sex-addicted cat, Chumley, I think you're the one who needs to have a talk with your little baby and not the other way around.

Beverly is not a dirty girl and would never send those emails. Chumley is making them up. He stalks her. Did you know that? And he takes pictures of her in various states of undress. Like the bathtub picture. If I remember correctly, on that particular day, I caught him hiding in a tree outside our bathroom window, holding a paparazzi-style camera in his left hand and his private parts in his right. He took off running when I spotted him, but there's no doubt in my mind that it was him.

Also, if you want to talk emails, perhaps you should explain this one. Beverly was obviously embarrassed about receiving it, seeing as though I found it in the trash:

To: Beverly
From: Chumley
Re: My love for you

Dear Beverly,

My belly has been unusually fluffy lately. I shed all my winter fur and have sprouted a fresh and furry white coat. Here's a picture of it:

Don't pay attention to the woman holding me; my heart belongs to you and not her.

By the way, is it true that all dogs like bones? If so, I've got a big one for you.

Dreaming of your perky booty and nubby tail,
Chumley