What my cat must think...
Here I am, sitting on the back of my plush cream sofa, sniffing away in my mistress's ear and staring out across the cosy, dimly lit room. There are three younger humans at the other end of the room, all three standing in front of a bright green screen, short white sticks swinging around in their hands. I'm not quite sure why they're doing this; I mean, surely they can't get any food out of it!
I'm just about to fall into a light, dreamy slumber, when one of the humans comes over and starts to shout at me and my mistress. I'm not sure what she wants but she argues and tries to shove me away from my throne. I jump down quickly but my mistress comes to pick me up again, shouting, "No, you idiot, I need her for my story!" She comforts me and whispers soothingly as though I'm one of her kin. Surely she doesn't actually believe that I was scared?
I'm back on my perch but this time staring out into the street, searching the damp, cold paving for a trace of the other cats that share the area. Not too long ago, I was out in the dark and one of them caught me round the backside- now I have a massive whole and a shaven patch to live with for the next week.I've decided that these northern cats are far scarier than those back down south; maybe next time I'll have to ask Maisy to escort me to the poo patch.
My sleep has just been interupted again by the little warm hand that is pulling at my fur. The humans actually think that we like to be annoyed but it really bugs me. That horrible senstion of having something else's paws all over you is really quite disturbing. We can't even tell them to stop so we end up wagging our tails like the riddiculous dogs they keep with them. If I could get good food from somewhere else then I'd be out of here in seconds. Maybe then I'd be able to aquire a small slice of dignity.