Furball Frankie

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.

I wish my hooman would understand - sometimes I just want to sit next to him, but not have fuss. When he's on his compooter, I like to do this. I especially like sitting on the thing with the scrawled writing all over it - it's comfy. My hooman says 'Frankie, you've got so many soft seats you could sit on', but I ignore him. He cannot stop giving me fuss though. He strokes my back. He scritches near my tail. He scritches my ears. He smooshes my face. He strokes my head. I have to turn round and give him 'the look'. This should be enough for him to leave me alone, but then he says 'It's your fault - you shouldn't be so cute and fluffy'. I despair - I really do.

I decided the cupboards needed exploring again. I meowed at all of them, and my hooman let me in each time. I meowed at the biggest one last. My hooman opened it, and...what a mess. So much stuff. I didn't know what to sniff first. I had a confused. What did he need with all this stuff? Should I make a little nest with it, and have a nap? Was any of it useful? Were there maybe meeces hiding in it? Was there a magical kingdom within? How can hooman live like this? What a mess.          

I decided to have some special time with my hooman last night. I decided to grace him with my presence at the dinner table (why he doesn't eat from the floor, I've no idea). It felt like the right occasion. He sat down and had - from what I could smell - some beef. I sat down and had some ham. He lowered the lighting and put a burning thing in the middle of the table. He looked at me. I blinked at him. He said 'wait', but the ham smelt too good so I got started. It was an important evening - it's good to let my hooman know just how much I tolerate him.

I knows it's in my home. I can smell it. It's somewhere. My hooman can't hide it from me. He's got ham somewhere. I'm patiently waiting by my bowl. Meowing. Looking at him. Willing him to do the right thing. I'll keep looking at him. I'll keep meowing. I know he'll bring it to me eventually. It's just a case of waiting.          

Sigh...sometimes I think me and my hooman speak another language. If I come up to him, meowing, I wants attention or food - usually both. It's his job to then provide that attention. But the right sort of attention. I do not want him to say 'Look at that fluffy little face!' then grab it with both hands. I do not want him to smoosh my cheeks. I do not want him to confuse me and make me do catty head shakes. I do not want him to boop me on the nose. I just want simple pats of the head, and maybe a stroke of my back and a tail scritch. Is that too much to ask?    

I has a hmmmmmnnnn.... I has ihhjiiokokk... There's socks on the window... I needs warms, because of hooman farming... I stsysiudoidjoij... Heheheheheheheh! Has anyone seen the hurple flurple durple? Where's the last biscuit tray dragon? Hooman — please get me extra usaisiuaoaspo... I loves catnip! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.    

I believe it's a special day. I believe it's 2 years since I adopted my hooman. I believe it's 2 years since I walked into his life and blessed him with my fluffy presence. I hope he realises just how lucky he is. I provides him with warmth, the chance to pet me, my fluffy belly, opportunities to feed me, the ability to clean up my poo, and full entertainment. I sniffs everything that comes into our home, offering full security. I check food for contaminants...but mainly just to see if it's tasty. I check the napping potential of various areas. I defend us both against the red dot. There is so much I do for my hooman — I don't think he realises. It was a very good day when I walked into his life.

I made a decision this morning. I thought long and hard about it . I decided to leave my nice warm cupboard for a bit and sit on the bed. Then I decided to lie down on the bed. This gave my hooman full access to all my fluffiness. It meant he could pet me as much as he pleased. This was my gift to him. I left the cupboard to allow him to do this. I hope he truly appreciates the great sacrifice I made.      

I had good sleep last night. I moved back onto the bed with my hooman. This is useful as he's made of warms. I also like to be within petting distance, so he can give me fuss. I settled between his legs, as this is comfy and gives maximum warms. He wriggled a bit during the night, which was annoying. But, in general, he behaved. The annoying thing is that he got up this morning, which meant my warms went. I was too sleepy to move though. I needed something to make me feel better, in the absence of my soft, squishy hooman. I gave him little squeaky meows, as I know he finds these cute. He had no choice but to sit and stroke my side, and give me belly rubs. Because of this, I has decided to forgive him for getting up. He's lucky I'm such a merciful kitty.