Furball Frankie

The new sunshine does things to my little catty brain. It makes me think. I likes thinking...mainly about chicken. But I also likes to watch the world go by. I wonder why hoomans eat from a platform and not the floor. I wonder why birds have wings but squirrels don't. I wonder when and where the red dot sleeps. I wonder why my fur looks ginger in the sun. I wonder why my hooman's voice is sometimes so deep yet sometimes so high...and why he still hasn't mastered meowing (he tries, but his accent is awful). I wonder if I'll ever see a toona fish in real life. I wonder how hoomans get by on just 8 hours of naps per day. I wonder why my hooman has fur just on his head, his face, and a little patch in the middle - such an odd design. I wonder why spiders have 8 legs, and why string comes out of their bums. I wonder where my hooman stores all my poo he collects. I wonder, I wonder... It's exhausting.

It's a hard life, being a cat. So many things to consider. I bet hoomans don't even think about some of these things. I has to think about cleanliness when I eats. My face is furry. I can't get my mush stuck in my bowl, otherwise it's a nightmare to get clean. I likes smelling of meat, but only up to a point. So when I eats, I has to pull my whiskers back, pull my ears back, and make sure not to get my catty cheeks in the bowl. Hooman doesn't have to think about this as he uses those metal things: 'nife and furk'. I don't have thumbs though, so I can't do this. I eat from a bowl - like any normal creature does.

It was a difficult night last night. I settled down in our napping quarters nice and early. I did a few sniffs, turned around a few times, then found the ideal, cosy spot. Then my hooman came in. He got into our bed and seemed to set his legs either side of me. At some point he fell asleep, as he started doing that loud snorting nose that makes him sound like an angry bear. All was well... ...then he started moving lots. He wriggled his legs. He rolled and thrashed. He kicked me in my fluffy butt. I quite like my hooman, but I kept having to get up and change positions. My key napping time was interrupted. Because of this, I has been very sleepy today. I has had to catch up on naps. Thankfully we're at the time of year when there are sunbeams to nap in. I'll try the napping quarters again tonight - I just hope that my hooman is less wriggly.    

Cats could sneak up at any time. So could a predator. And so could sneaky hooman hands. My advice is - always keep one eye slightly open, even when napping. Or at least be ready for what might be coming. I'm not one for getting my claws out, but you never know... If it's my hooman, I prefer to sniff him, headbutt him, or let out a 'mrrrp'. But it pays to be on your guard. Catty caution is essential.    

Hoomans - if your kitty sits somewhere and stares at you, you needs to pay attention. If I sits next to something, it means I want something. It means my needs have not been met. It's a little kitty protest. This is particularly the case if I sits by my food bowls. It means all is not well. It means 'Do the right thing, hooman'. I'm not sitting there for my health. That bowl won't fill itself. I'm waiting, hooman...

I is clever. I knows how to do little things to get my way. One of these things is strategic sits. I simply find the thing that is grabbing my hooman's attention and park my fluffy butt on it. Or...I find the thing I know he's about to reach for and park my fluffy butt on that. This morning, after my breakfast, my hooman was eating his own breakfast. I know that after this he grabs his compooter and does 'the werk'. I didn't want him to do the werk, so I positioned myself on top of the compooter. I made sure I looked extra cute...and extra fluffy. He tried to grab it, so I nose-nudged him. He said 'I need that, Frankie'. I blinked slowly at him. In the end I accepted a bribe of five ear scritches and four chin rubs. Then I released the compooter.

Hooman needs to understand. As a cat, I'm a solitary creature. I need alone time. I need privacy. Sometimes I just want to sit on the bed and stare at my feets. This is not the time for lots of kisses on my head. It's not the time for face smooshes. It's not the time to blow raspberries on my fur. It's not the time for nose boops. It's not the time to ask how I became so cute and fluffy and little. It's not the time to let me know that I'm an adorable floof. Hooman can be annoying.

Hooman has not been quite right in the last couple of days. Hooman has been poorly. He's spent lots of time in his napping quarters. He's got up to feed me, but he's not done much else. I has decided that he needs me. I has decided to sit and lie on him - and to nap in solidarity with him. I has warms. I can share warms. Sometimes I sniffs him to check he's okay. He smells a bit funny, but that's usual. I hope I comfort him as much as belly rubs comfort me.

Hooman has to understand - if I needs something, I need it exactly when I ask for it. If I meow with urgency, this means I need food, or attention, or fuss, or the temperature in the room doesn't suit me, or the bed isn't fluffy enough, or my biscuits are too crunchy, or a chair has moved and I don't like its position, or the general atmosphere isn't to my liking. It is down to my hooman to work out what's wrong - what my needs are. I shouldn't have to tell him twice. Asking me 'Why are you yelling?' is no good. It doesn't solve the problem. Hooman should instinctively know what I need. It's his job.