The humans like to discuss me at times. They talk about my sister, too, of course. But I'm the one they seem to mention more often. I suppose it's because I'm bigger and therefore better.
The comments sometimes verge on the personal, however. I don't mind when they say I'm handsome. I don't even mind when they say how good I am at washing. These are, after all, compliments.
I don't even mind, too much, when they tell me that my fur is lovely and soft, just like a cat's fur. After all, I am proud to be of the feline persuasion. The humans can't help it that they were made differently, and they're very useful as servants. However they have made comments that my fur used to be rough, like that of a dog.
When I was little, I thought it was rather nice that they compared me to a dog. Then I learned that we cats do not like dogs.
It was not a compliment.
But I am a generous cat. I forgave them.
One evening recently, they and the tall thin human Tim had been doing what they call 'playing a game'. This consists of putting lots of pieces of cardboard on the table, and carefully placing some tempting cat toys on it. Joan and I have tried to join in, but they get annoyed and dump us on the floor. So we are keeping our distance, at least for now. One day we will take our revenge...
After the game, one of the humans commented that I was as big as an adult cat. Joan, they claim, looks like a big kitten. However, they said, I have grown much faster. That was a revelation to me! Up to that point, I had assumed that everything around me was getting smaller, including my sister.
Eventually they said they would fetch the kitchen scales. Then they picked me up and placed me in a bowl. It was very strange. Usually they stop me going on the table, and don't like me being in any of the bowls.
So I sat up straight, and let them know that I was very happy to sit there:
They said I weighed four kilograms. They said that was nearly nine pounds. The weight of a good-sized baby. And apparently it's not far off the weight of an adult cat.
They also said that I was not supposed to be fully grown for another four or five months. So then they had a discussion about whether I was just experiencing an early teenage growth spurt, or whether I might be an enormous cat one day.
The conversation then became highly personal, as they said I eat a lot and might get too big for the cat flap. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. If the cat flap becomes too small (and I am still not convinced that it's me who is growing) then they will just have to make it bigger. Isn't that the kind of thing humans were put here to do?
The comments sometimes verge on the personal, however. I don't mind when they say I'm handsome. I don't even mind when they say how good I am at washing. These are, after all, compliments.
I don't even mind, too much, when they tell me that my fur is lovely and soft, just like a cat's fur. After all, I am proud to be of the feline persuasion. The humans can't help it that they were made differently, and they're very useful as servants. However they have made comments that my fur used to be rough, like that of a dog.
When I was little, I thought it was rather nice that they compared me to a dog. Then I learned that we cats do not like dogs.
It was not a compliment.
But I am a generous cat. I forgave them.
One evening recently, they and the tall thin human Tim had been doing what they call 'playing a game'. This consists of putting lots of pieces of cardboard on the table, and carefully placing some tempting cat toys on it. Joan and I have tried to join in, but they get annoyed and dump us on the floor. So we are keeping our distance, at least for now. One day we will take our revenge...
After the game, one of the humans commented that I was as big as an adult cat. Joan, they claim, looks like a big kitten. However, they said, I have grown much faster. That was a revelation to me! Up to that point, I had assumed that everything around me was getting smaller, including my sister.
Eventually they said they would fetch the kitchen scales. Then they picked me up and placed me in a bowl. It was very strange. Usually they stop me going on the table, and don't like me being in any of the bowls.
So I sat up straight, and let them know that I was very happy to sit there:
They said I weighed four kilograms. They said that was nearly nine pounds. The weight of a good-sized baby. And apparently it's not far off the weight of an adult cat.
They also said that I was not supposed to be fully grown for another four or five months. So then they had a discussion about whether I was just experiencing an early teenage growth spurt, or whether I might be an enormous cat one day.
The conversation then became highly personal, as they said I eat a lot and might get too big for the cat flap. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. If the cat flap becomes too small (and I am still not convinced that it's me who is growing) then they will just have to make it bigger. Isn't that the kind of thing humans were put here to do?
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