Furball Frankie

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.

We cats only allow hoomans access to our bellies when we feel safe around them. We only allow belly rubs when we truly trust them. Sometimes, access to our bellies is a trap, and we'll attack as soon as the first hand touches us. I has decided I quite like my hooman. This means he is granted full fluffy belly access. In turn, this means I gets my full belly rubbed - from chin to back feets. Happy. Some may say the 'full access pose' is a little undignified, but I don't care — I loves belly rubs.

Sometimes I like getting close to my hooman. Really close. He's made of warms, so that helps - it means I has a comfy. It has to be on my terms though - when I feel ready for snuggles. For example, if my hooman retires to his napping quarters, I like to wait until he's fully settled...then go and plop myself right in the middle of his chest. From here, I can purr, stick my nose in his face, give him catty headbutts, and receive lots of fuss. Sometimes he'll say 'Frankie, that's not very comortable', but I just blink at him and look cute. I'm allowed to do this, but my hooman must not invade my catty personal space. If he does, I let out an annoyed yowl and go into another room - it's only fair.  

I like to help my hooman around our place. I like to help wherever I can. Like last night... My hooman pulled old, smelly sheets off of our napping quarters, then came into the room with new, fresh ones. I knew I needed to assist him. I jumped onto the bed, went into the middle, and settled into a loaf position. This was to keep it warm — very important. He put some new covers on the soft things his head goes on. Then he got a big sheet out. He said 'Frankie! Move!' Then it suddenly went dark...who turned out the lights? I was underneath something. My hooman made a huffing noise, then suddenly it was light again. He said 'You can't stay there, Frankie'. I blinked at him, then settled down on top of this new sheet. He huffed again. Then he started flapping about with the big soft thing that goes on the bed. I blinked at him a few more times...then yawned. He put the big soft thing on the bed...then put a bit of it over me. I had a comfy. He said 'Thanks for all y...

I think it's important for us cats to help our hoomans out. We need to keep them healthy, after all — so they can feed us and give us essential ear scritches. So I try to keep my hooman in good shape, both mentally and physically. Okay, I don't really help him physically, other than making him chase me when he tries to put me in the box to take me to the catty doctor. I do try to help him mentally though. I do this by offering therapy, in the form of... - Soothing purrs - Slow blinks - Being cute - Sitting on him, which makes him all warm - Allowing him to stroke me - Letting him bury his hand in my soft belly fluff This last one is very important. If my hooman is having a tough day, and making lots of huffing and puffing sounds, I find that allowing him to stroke my belly fur instantly soothes him. I just hope he appreciates how much I do for him.    

I has one solemn duty today, as a cat — to trip up my hooman. I has a hot, so I flomped on the floor. But not just anywhere. I made sure I was right in the middle of the room, so it was impossible to walk past or around me. When my hooman was paying attention, he stepped over me. When he wasn't, he fell over me and said 'For duck's sake, Frankie — do you have to lie in the middle of the room?' I wasn't sure what he meant, so I blinked at him, to look cute. Then I rolled onto my back, tucked my paws in, showed my belly, and said 'Mrrrrp'. Today was a good day.

I like sitting next to my hooman...sometimes. Or laying next to him...allowing him to give me belly rubs. Sometimes he strokes my head too, and gives me ear scritches. But there's one place he doesn't have my permission to touch — my back feets. I don't like it. He knows I don't like it. If he touches them, I'll either pull them towards my belly...or I'll bunny kick him. He knows the rules — it's up to him to obey them.    

I has a brain freeze. I is stuck on what to write about. I sniffed some boxes — no ideas. I pawed at the cupboards — no ideas. I meowed for treats — I got them. I looked at my hooman. Hmmm... He's quite tall. He's chunky. He has dark fur on his head, although some is missing at the back. He has a little fur on his face. His ears aren't triangles and are on the sides of his head — weird. His teeth have no points and his claws are short and blunt — I has no I idea how he hunts. He has a soft belly that's good for taking naps on. Still no inspiration. I clawed a chair — no ideas. I looked out the window — the birds and squirrels are hiding. Think I'll have a nap.    

I like maximum fuss. It's important that I get this as often as possible. I deserve it. So I don't like it when my hooman is distracted by things other than my fluffy self. Earlier, he was watching the big, bright screen, without paying me any attention. I wasn't happy about this. I jumped up onto the table in between him and the screen. Then I walked along it, until I was sure I was right in front of his eyes, blocking his view. This forced him to look at me, at which point I let out a cute, squeaky meow...then I blinked slowly at him. He made a huffing sound, then stroked my back, patted my head, and gave me ear scritches. After this, he said 'Happy now?' I wasn't...so I stayed where I was.    

I is a catty Kung Fu master. Hi-ya! I can stretch and do big kicks with the best of them. I am a warrior. I am a fearsome furball. Feel the might of my meow. Pow! 💥