Furball Frankie

Hooman has not been quite right in the last couple of days. Hooman has been poorly. He's spent lots of time in his napping quarters. He's got up to feed me, but he's not done much else. I has decided that he needs me. I has decided to sit and lie on him - and to nap in solidarity with him. I has warms. I can share warms. Sometimes I sniffs him to check he's okay. He smells a bit funny, but that's usual. I hope I comfort him as much as belly rubs comfort me.

Hooman has to understand - if I needs something, I need it exactly when I ask for it. If I meow with urgency, this means I need food, or attention, or fuss, or the temperature in the room doesn't suit me, or the bed isn't fluffy enough, or my biscuits are too crunchy, or a chair has moved and I don't like its position, or the general atmosphere isn't to my liking. It is down to my hooman to work out what's wrong - what my needs are. I shouldn't have to tell him twice. Asking me 'Why are you yelling?' is no good. It doesn't solve the problem. Hooman should instinctively know what I need. It's his job.

My hooman should know something. In fact, all hoomans should know it. If you pass something in front of me - and most cats - it will be sniffed. It's my job to check it out. If my hooman comes up to me, he will be sniffed too. It doesn't matter if it's the first or the twentieth time he's come up to me that day - sniffs will take place. And it doesn't matter if he only came up to me two minutes ago, and got sniffed then - there will be more sniffs. He could've been anywhere. He could've been near ham...or another cat...or an interesting-smelling hooman. Sniffs are absolutely essential. And please don't nose boop us, mid-sniff - very annoying.

I sense a change in the air. I sense that it's getting warmer. And lighter. This means that snuggle time is at a premium. I must get in as many snuggly naps while it's still a bit cold. I need to make sure my hooman is lured in by my cuteness, then roll onto my back, with a 'Mrrrrp', to ensure maximum belly rubs. The warmer weather is for sitting on window sills, spreading out on the cool floor, and chasing shadows at night. It also means defending my home from small flying things. Here comes the sun...

Silly hooman. He leaves soft things on our bed and doesn't expect them to get napped on. He seems to throw things on the bed at random - saying; 'I'll wash this soon'. Then he forgets, and the thing stays there. This is usually my chance. I sniff the thing. I paw at it. I walk around on it. I lay down on it. If it feels good, it becomes my new napping spot. Hooman has left a yellow and blue thing on the bed. He won't be wearing it again. It's my napping spot forever now.      

Something frustrates me about hoomans. They're so tall. And they insist on walking on two legs - not four, as nature intended. Whenever I want something from my hooman, I has to look up at him. If I want his attention, my meows have to be louder so that they travel all the way up to his ears. Why doesn't he help me? Why doesn't he meet me nearer the floor? Why doesn't he get on all fours so that we can communicate properly? I can then give him proper sniffs and proper catty headbutts. He's too tall. All hoomans need to be shorter.