Furball Frankie

I try to help my hooman out where I can. For example, I distribute my litter evenly on the floor — not just in one spot. I cannot help him with some things though. I was on cupboard inspection duty before, and had a proper look in one of them. So much stuff. Papers. Boxes. Clothes. Pictures of my hooman looking much younger. Weird colourful things. I meowed my concerns to him. How can he live like this? A cat could get lost in there. He misunderstood my meows and gave me chicken biscuits. I accepted them.          

I has a lovely, shiny, black fur coat. I makes sure I washes it regularly, to keep it in top condition. It always looks good. It goes with anything. I have my doubts about my hooman though. A recent inspection of his clothes cupboard casts serious doubt over his style choices. Pink? Bright yellow? Strange, wrinkly fabrics? Strange, woolly fabrics. And none of them were particularly shiny or sleek (I never see him lick them — I wonder how they stay clean). I has meowed in protest, and clawed some of the items. This seems to have fallen on deaf ears. I shall try again to draw his attention to the horrors of his clothes cupboard later today.

I has noticed something. It's getting chillier. I can sense it. My fur keeps me warm, but I still like to be as snuggly as possible. These means sleeping by, or on, my hooman, as he's made of warms. It also means finding the cosiest positions to sleep in. I has perfected this art. My preferred positions, as it gets colder, are... *Nose tucked into belly fluff. *A full 'catty doughnut' — asleep in a circle, with my tail over my nose. These positions ensure maximum warmth and cosiness. When I fancy, I may — as mentioned — sit on my hooman...but strictly on my terms.

So annoying. I had my dinner. Then I had fome bifcuits. I even had a drink. But now I'fe got fome bitf of bifcuit ftuk in my teef. I've tried licking them again and again, but it makef no difference — they're well and truly ftuck. I don't know what to do. I'fe meowed at my hooman, but he can't help. I'll just haf to keep trying to get rid of them. Bloody bifcuits!    

I is sitting in my hooman's napping quarters, relaxing. Occasionally I has a wash, then I go back to staring at the wall. My hooman keeps trying to bother me. From the other room, I hear him say 'Frankie! Fraaaaankiiiiiiiie!' I ignore this. I want peace. Then he comes into his napping quarters and squeals 'Frankiiiiiiiieeee!' I ignore this too. He makes kissy noises above my head. He clicks his fingers. He says 'You're so cute! Little floofy face!' I continue to stare at the wall. I have 256 muscles in each catty ear. That's what they're for — ignoring silly hoomans.              

I was sitting next to my hooman, keeping him company. He stooped down to give me fuss, and I got a shock. The fur on his head is disappearing - at the back! What if it all goes? How is he supposed to keep his head warm? It's bad enough that his fur doesn't cover his whole body, but if it goes from his head, how will he survive? I may have to help save him. I may have to climb onto his head to keep him warm. I need him. How else am I suppose to get fed and have my poo tray cleaned?    

I was having a pre-nap rest when my hooman came into his napping quarters. I was very comfy, sitting on a thing that smelt of my hooman. It had a nice, crinkly feel to it. My hooman went to reach for the thing under me. He said 'Frankie — I need that'. I blinked at him. Then I rolled over, said 'mrrrp', and started purring. My hooman huffed and said 'But you look so comfy'. Then he reached over and tried to pull the crinkly thing from underneath me. I stayed put. I let out a little meow. He huffed again, threw his hands in the air, and said 'I give up — you're too cute'. Then he gave me ear scritches and chin rubs.

I'm such a useful kitty. I has been helping my hooman again. He was freshening up his napping quarters, so I kept jumping up to sniff, inspect, and lay on them. He kept picking me up and putting me on the the floor, but my work wasn't done, so I kept jumping back up. He made lots of 'tut' sounds and said I was a 'silly boy'. It's important I help him though. Happy to be of assistance.          

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.