Unca Macbeth...cat person?

Dear Diary,
I went outside for my 2 p.m. fit yesterday. I must admit that it was for purely selfish reasons. True, it is an embarrassment to collapse into a puddle of my own tears and awkwardly try to catalogue them whilst my hands involuntarily spasm, BUT what could be more pitiful? If my sultry "Touched Tomboy Next Door" (TTND from here on out...you know...for secrets) were to come upon me in a tizzy, surely she would try to comfort me, right?
Anyway, as I was removing rocks, pointy sticks, and bits of broken bottles of the Slavic giggle water," I noticed Unca Macbeth out in the ol' sandlot. I didn't know Unca Macbeth was such an avid practitioner of athletics! He had set up the ol' sandlot for a game of t-ball. Surely, he wanted me to join the festivities! I was beginning to walk over when two p.m. hit and I began to have my fit. When I awoke, Unca Macbeth's game was already taking place. Feeling a little bruised that Gilmer was not around and also that my fit went unobserved (why have them then if no one is there to observe I ask!), I gathered myself and walked over to the field.
Before I turned the corner I heard Unca Macbeth shout "Gorammit Mittens! Stop playing with the ball! Mr. JuJu is gong to score! Oh, no! Leave the field, just leave. Where's your head!? Dr. Fluffy McPantaloons, fill in for Mittens!" I couldn't believe my eyes! Unca Macbeth had trained his many cats to play T-ball. I have heard of horse whisperers, but never have I heard of cat-whisperers.
I was going to ask Unca if I too might learn his most incredible gift (imagine what wooing wonders I could perform with a trained kitty!), but before I could, Mittens-who had had quite enough of Unca's smart talk-began to bite at his ankles. Well, needless to say that emptied both dugouts and an all out brawl began to ensue. My gentle stomach couldn't handle such violence, so I ran back to the house.
I must get unca Macbeth to teach me the secret to Cat-Whispering. With an army of adorable pussycats at my control, I can win the heart of...well, I probably better make up my mind first.

Yours,
Y.B.P.M.