Furball Frankie

I has a confused. I is on high alert. In our napping quarters I spotted something: lots of scratchy things on the walls. Bugs? They must be caught. I must pounce on them. I must defend my honour...and protect my hooman. I has jumped up at them. I has swiped at them. I has clawed them. I hasn't caught one yet. But I will. I'm biding my time.    

I likes my idiot hooman at the moment. He keeps bringing tasties home. He keeps bringing hams. He thinks I can't tell, but I can smell it as soon as he walks in with it. And I know where he keeps it — in the big, tall, white thing. If he goes to it and I trots to his side, I make sure to look up at him with my wide catty eyes. Then I meow as if this is my last song on Earth. This usually does the trick. For extra cuteness, I jump up at him. Job done: hams secured.    

I was having sniffs in the napping quarters when my sensitive little catty nose detected something. I had to hunt it down. I jumped onto the bed, sniffed around, and found the source - my hooman's pink feets covers...'socks', I think. They smelt goooooooooooooood. They smelt of catty drugs. I had a happy. I bit them. I licked them. I rolled all over them. I was in catty ecstacy. I did catty headshakes. My eyes went big and wide. I bunny-kicked the socks. Then I fell asleep.

It is cold. But I has a happy. I has found a sunbeam. Sunbeams are the best. Almost as good as chicken. I found the ideal spot, both to oversee my territory and to stare at my hooman. I walked in a circle three times, settled down, tucked my back feets in, tucked my front feets in. The perfect catty loaf. My hooman looked at me and said 'You enjoying the sun, Frankie?' I blinked at him. Idiot. I napped.

My hooman has been flapping about in our napping quarters again. I went in, after his flapping, to investigate. I jumped up onto the bed. It was different. It smelt different. In fact it didn't smell enough - that was the problem. I think this is what the hooman calls 'clean'. I don't like it. It lacks catty scent. I looked to correct this immediately. I rolled around on the bed, rubbed my face on it, made biscuits on it. Then I laid down on it and stretched out. Then I rolled around some more. It's not there yet - but it'll get there. It just needs to be Frankie-fied.  

It's cold. It's miserable. It's dark. There's nothing left to do today except curl into a ball and get all snuggly and warm. With a hooman like mine, this means protecting the sacred nap. I curls up, puts my face into my belly fluff, tucks my back feets in, then covers my face with my front feets. In this way, I make sure that it's impossible to disturb me. No fank you hooman - not today.

It's been a good day. I has found a perfect napping spot - in the warm bit left by my hooman, in our napping quarters. If I lays here and looks cute, I gets the best of both worlds - maximum naps and ear scritches. My hooman can't resist, so I lay in peace for a bit... ...then he comes in, says 'Frankiiiiiiiiiieeee!' and gives me lots of ear scritches. ...then he leaves me alone. ...then he comes back in, says 'Frankiiiiiiiiiieeee!' and gives me lots of ear scritches. This goes on all day. He's a very silly hooman.

I has a confused. The soft stuff has gone from our napping quarters. I is sitting where it was. My hooman doesn't seem to be able to - or doesn't want to - put new soft stuff down. I can't think why this is. I'll wait where I am until the soft stuff returns.