Furball Frankie

My hooman is lazy. He likes to stay in his napping quarters until late, on two days of the week. I has heard him call this a 'lie-in'. This is no good for me - not when I has a hungry. So I has developed tactics to get him up. First I walk up to his head. Then I sniff his face. Then I stick my cold nose in his face. If this fails, I move to Phase 2 of my plan. I sits next to his face. I meow. I yowl. I paw at his face. This usually does the trick. If not, then I move to Phase 3. This consists entirely of just sitting on his head.          

I decided to explore the bit in between all rooms again. I came to the special door. I was sure I'd seen it before, but couldn't remember. I was in a state of wonder. What could be behind it? A magical land? A world full of toona? A labyrinth of moving red dots? Bowl after bowl of chicken biscuits? Fellow cats riding tiny horses into battle? I meowed at my hooman to come and assist me urgently - to grant me entry to the magic portal. I meowed and meowed and meowed. I yowled. Finally he heeded my call. And with a cry of 'Alright, I'll open it!' he showed me the world within. There were lots of plastic bags. I sniffed the bottom shelf, then walked away.      

It was cold today. I could sense it with my little, sensitive nose. It was a day for snuggles. After breakfast, I wandered into my hooman's napping quarters and jumped onto the bed. It was still warm, from my hooman. I flomped down for naps, but I wasn't warm enough. I put my nose into my belly fur, but I still wasn't warm enough. I tucked my tail around me, but I still wasn't warm enough. I put my paws over my face...and that did it. I was warm. I was cosy. I was the perfect catty croissant.      

Sometimes things just aren't worth the thought hoomans put into them. I was having a rest earlier. Not a full nap - just relaxing in the catty loaf position. I found a comfy spot to look at, on the wall, and stared at it. My hooman came in and said 'Hiiiiii!' I kept my focus on the comfy spot. My hooman said 'Whatcha looking at, Frankie?' I stayed as I was. He leaned over and started looking towards the wall. He said 'What is it, Frankie?' I kept staring. He waved his hand in front of my eyes. This was annoying. He huffed and walked away. I kept staring.  

I likes sitting next to my hooman. I likes sitting near my hooman. I likes it when we both nap in his napping quarters. I likes laying on his chest. I is not a lap cat though. It's not my thing. But I decided to make an exception yesterday. My hooman was sitting on the big, long, soft chair. His lap was free. I hopped into it. It was made of warms. I turned around three times then settled into a loaf position. It was surprisingly comfy. I stayed there for a long time. I may do it again in future. I don't know when though.

I always make sure my hooman is well aware when I has a hungry. That way he puts food out for me on time. But it's not just a case of him putting food in my bowl. I need company when I eat too. I need him to stay with me. Sometimes he puts my food out, then wanders away somewhere. I then have to leave my bowl, find him, meow at him until he follows me, and lead him back to my bowl. After that, I make sure he stands by me while I munch. I also prefer it if he strokes my back - it makes me happy. I have to look up regularly, to make sure he's still with me. Without my hooman present, I cannot eat.    

It's very important that my hooman (and others who approach him) knows where he stands. It's very important he knows who he belongs to. This is precisely the reason that when he hops onto the bed to give me fuss and cuddles, I scent mark him. If he gets his face close to mine, I rubs my cheek on his cheeks and nose - both sides. This means he smells of me. It says 'Property of Frankie'. If any cat, or hooman, should go up to my hooman and sniff his face, they'll know he's mine. I hope he understands how honoured he is to smell of me.

I has had nice naps on the bed today. Occasionally my hooman has popped in and given me ear scritches and chin rubs. It's been nice. It'd been a while since I last saw him, then I heard him coming into the room. I decided to greet him with a fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuull stretch. This gave him complete access to my fluffy belly. I let out a cute 'mrrrrrp', so he knew what he had to do. I got a full, 2-minute belly rub. Heaven. I has a happy.

Today I has sits. Today I thinks. Why aren't all animal ears triangles? It's the best shape for hearing things all around you. Why are hooman ears all weird and round, and on the side of the head? I never see the chicken go into my biscuits — how does it get there? What does my hooman do with all my poo? Where does he take it? Why do some hoomans paint their claws silly colours? Why does it only rain indoors in one room in my home — in the weird, cubicle thing? How does my hooman cope with such little napping time? Why don't all animals meow? It'd be much easier if we all spoke the same language. My hooman tries to meow, but he gets his words muddled up and his accent is terrible. Why do spiders have eight legs? Surely that's too many. Why don't hoomans ever seem to get zoomies? It's a confusing world. I think I'll have another nap.

It is important to keep up certain catty standards - not just for me, but for all of catkind. I is a distinguished kitty. Therefore, I like to show my class whenever I can. I extend this to napping. I has to show that I is a gentlecat - aware of kitty etiquette. So, when I nap - or even just sit in a loaf position - I do so properly. I cross my little kitty feets. I remind myself that I must be very demure, very meowful. In this way, I represent all cats as I should.