|"But that's my spot!" - Mr Bumpy.|
I have to tell you about something strange.
For quite a while now, Miss 22's been getting a very, very big tummy. I've suspected she was going to have kittens.
But what she and her husband brought around to our house the other day, wasn't a kitten, or I don't think it was. Actually, I watched it for a while, and I still don't know what it was.
It was the size of a full-grown cat. And it's only got hair on the top of its head like humans do.
Mum calls it "Grandma's Girl". So I guess that's its name.
Grandma's Girl behaves like a newborn kitten. It drinks milk and sleeps. It even had a little meow when it wanted its milk.
Oh, and its got its own fortress. It's much, much, smaller than my fortress, and doesn't have a roof. But the sides are made so you can see through it. All Grandma's Girl did in there was sleep, though. Not that there was much else to do. There's no ledges to jump on or catgrass to chew in Grandma's Girl's fortress.
And Grandma's Girl has very bad manners. It doesn't share anything: not milk or Mum's lap. Worse, it doesn't use a litter tray. (I'd tell you what it did, but that's just too disgusting.)
I didn't see it walking while it was here - it was just being carried everywhere by the humans. Once I see it walking, I'll know what it is. If it uses all of its legs, I'll know it's a giant funny-looking kitten. If it only uses two legs, I'll know it's a miniature human.
Anyway, whatever it is, I guess I'll have to get used to it. It doesn't look like they're going to give it away. All of the humans seemed rather attached to it, although I don't see why.
After seeing Grandma's Girl, I've decided that I'm glad I've been neutralised.
Mr Woof: I think the word you're looking for is neutered.
I don't think I'd want a kitten or whatever-it-is that was like that.
Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
Supreme Feline Overlord.