Furball Frankie

It's Sunday. I has a sleepy. I has had lots of pre-nap naps, lots of naps, and lots of post-nap naps. It's been a tough day. Lots of naps means I need to keep myself in peak physical condition — ready for an emergency...or zoomies...or chasing a spider...or catching the sneaky red dot. The only way to stay in condition is lots of stretching. So I make sure I do the biggest stretches possible. I think my hooman is confused though - he walked in on me stretching and said 'Are you broken?' I made a 'mrrrrrrp' sound and looked cute.

My hooman is driving me mad today. Everywhere I go, he keeps coming up to me and saying 'You're so cute!' Then he starts saying silly things in a squeaky voice: 'Jooooojsh! Jooojshy-jooooojsh!' 'You're such a schmoopie doopie poople face!' 'Look at that little floofy belly!' He couples this with burying his face in my fur and making lots of 'mwah!' sounds. I just want peace. He can reach me on the bed. He can reach me on sofa. He can't reach me way down on the floor. He's too old. And too tubby. I'm safe here.

I had to clean my back feets today, so I began my usual routine. I tucked my back feets in. Stuck my back feets out. In. Out. In. Out. I shook them all about. I had a tricky licky, Then I turned around. That's how I cleans my feets.

I was having sniffs, around my home. I sniffed lots of things — cupboards, chairs, boxes. Then my catty nostrils caught the scent of something. It was cheesy. It was really strong. It ponged. I tried to find out where it was coming from. I was pulled towards the big, main room, where my hooman was sitting. The smell was even stronger. Next to him were his feets covers. That's where the smell was coming from. *Catty gag* Poo, hooman — your feets stinks! They needs a wash. I meowed and looked up at him in disbelief...    

Wherever possible, I like to help my hooman throughout the day. In fact, to help him with his 'werk', it's my job to: Look cute all day. Take naps. Leave my belly available for fluffy therapy. Purr. Blink. Wee in my tray, to give my hooman something to get up for. Talk to my hooman, to keep him company. Sit on top of things that he needs. By doing all of this, I'm offering my hooman my service. This is my sacrifice to him.        

I like to have a comfy. It's my preferred way of napping. So my hooman made me happy before. I was having a rest in his napping quarters, near the soft cushions for his head, when he came into the room. He said 'Frankiiiiiiie! You're so cute!' I blinked at him. Then he came over to me and stroked my head, gave me ear scritches, and stroked my back. I blinked again. After that he pulled the covers up and laid them over me. This was nice. I had warms. He started telling me a catty story: 'Once upon a time, there was a panther in the jungle who...' I napped.