In the Master's bed is good. So also is the central tile of the kitchen floor. And in the bathroom right next to the toilet. That always frazzles the Master, like, "If only the little bastard could just use the damn thing!" It arouses in him unreal expectations of me. I run, I frolic, I chew things. I do not pee into porcelain artifices. Other things I do not do include contemplating my own existence; getting depressed; crying at weddings. Those things I leave to the Master. As a matter of fact, I have never been to a wedding. No one has had the gumption to invite me as of yet.
Just yesterday I discovered the joy of humping. Oh what a pleasure it is indeed! I practice on the toddler "Benny" when the Master isn't looking. Benny is not much girthier than I. He giggles when I prop my paws on him and commence to pump him exuberantly. The Master, when he catches me doing this, yells to the Misses, "Look! He's raping him!" And they both laugh and point and Benny giggles and giggles, and this arouses me so. Boy, does it. I hump and pump and hump like a little furry Fergie until Benny is face down on the rug, and invariably the Master and Misses must beat me off.
I also, as you may have guessed, am very tired most of the time. The Master calls me"narcoleptic". I don't know what that moniker means, but I do not like it. It seems to "paint me" in a crappy light. My name is MustNotSleep. This is the name you have given me Master. Do you hear me? I demand respect! I demand you and the Misses do more humping sans clothing to supply me with toddlers to "rape"! And I de... deman... d...