Dear sweet, lovable kitten babies,
If you do not stop whining for food, I am going to sell you to the gypsies to be made into hats. Lunch happens at 4. You have been squeaking at me since 1. Just because I am home does not mean we have food on demand. You are not starving and dying, and you do not need to eat until you are spherical. You can make it one more hour. Auntie Kim will not forget to feed you. I promise.
your faithful human slave