Catnip and Catnaps

I don’t like that chair with balls on its legs. I think it has nasty intentions towards my tail. I’m giving it a dog-wide berth from now on. I’ll stay on the desk instead.

The crows are all young and mad out there. Young ones caw and caw. I know how they feel. I can feel my own libida rise. I romp around the house at night scratching things I’m forbidden to touch but beans won’t wake at much. I can do a proper yowl. I’ll wait until full dark.

There’s an ostrich on my balcony.

What an ignoble start to the morning. I wait patiently for my food at the bean’s foot and get my tail stood upon. I go to hop on her desk to be near and jump on papers but they fall and I fall and they land on me and I on them and the pages were overhanging the edge and I think I’ll go to bed in my cat bed but there are books on it. Under the bed, no better place for me than that this morning.

I yowl and crawl around on the bed making an impressive sound and I get in trouble but when the she-bean does it, she doesn’t?

They did it again. They went out for food for them, came home with l’eau de poulet in the fur of their wools and brought me no chicken. I stuck my head in every grocery bag just to be sure. Then they ate. And gave me canned puree gluey stuff. While they had cheese. Melted and none for me.