Disappearing furniture

Sometimes, the humans do very strange things. Just as we are beginning to think that perhaps they are more intelligent than we had assumed, they demonstrate by their actions that they are not. Rather the reverse.

Take this week, for instance. Quite out of the blue, they got it into their heads to start moving furniture around the house. They took the nice sofa - the one that opens into a big bed - and moved it out of the study. Then they said it was too heavy, so they left it in the living room until another strong human arrived to help - and carried it up the stairs to a room which they (confusingly) refer to as 'Tim's room'. Tim doesn't even live here and the door is usually closed, so we can't sit on that sofa any more.

Then they moved one of the living room sofas into the study. Well, that was fine, although it seemed rather a strange thing to do:

But then they started moving other furniture into the dining room, and pushing what was left to the far end of the living room. They even rolled up the rug. It left a big open space:

Perhaps it was done to make a nice area for us to run around in, as it's often a bit chilly on the outside balcony. It was a kind thought, but we quite like furniture, and jumping over things, and hiding. A big open space really isn't terribly exciting, and our voices sound rather different in there now, which is a bit disturbing.

Still, we tried to be grateful, and as we found a little ball under one of the sofas, we did chase that around for a while.

The next day, they closed the door to the living room and we were trapped in the kitchen/dining room area! We didn't mind - we usually sleep in the mornings - but it was rather mysterious. There were odd noises going on, and another human talking.

When they opened the door again, we raced into the living room, wondering what nice surprise was there for us.

And I have to say, it was a bit of a disappointment, although we tried to hide it. The humans do their best, after all. There was a sort of sheet in the middle of the floor:

It smelled quite interesting, but it wasn't warm enough to sleep on, and we couldn't move it because there was a strange heavy object holding it down.

Being the intelligent cat that I am, I quickly realised that this was a new piece of furniture, one expressly designed for cats - it would be too small for a human to sit on it:

Joan looked up at me, and she noticed something strange on the ceiling, so I had a look too. I think this must be some kind of secret sign but we have not worked out what it means:

She decided to join me on the new furniture; it was a bit of a squash but we fitted so long as we kept still:

However, when we started rolling around and playing, we realised that we were in danger of falling off:

So we got down. The humans must have realised that this wasn't a very useful piece of furniture, because later on it disappeared.  

Then, the next day, another human arrived. We were shut in the dining room area again, and when we managed to get out, we discovered that the sofa in the study had gone too: 

I don't suppose we will ever understand humans. 

So now, there's only one remaining comfortable place to sleep in our usual quarters: 

I hope they will realise that it was much nicer the way it used to be.