Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,
Let me tell you about a conversation I had the other day. I was enjoying my all-important 653rd nap of the day when I felt something press down on me and drag down my back.
Then I heard an excited voice say: "Bumpy let me stroke him!"
I sat up, to find one of the small humans who live in the roof. It was the boy.
"Dude," I said, "that just isn't cool. Firstly, it doesn't count if you sneak up on me when I'm asleep. And secondly, don't you know the rules at all? Never disturb a sleeping cat. It's in the Feline Code."
"Are you going to tell on me?" He asked.
"Tell on you? No. But if you do it again, I might scratch you."
"That's OK," he said, "just as long as you don't get me in trouble with the grown ups again."
"I know about trouble," I said. "I've had a bit of it myself. Just last night I was enjoying scratching happily, when Mum yelled: 'Bumpy, that's my new dressing table stool. Stop it!' If she didn't want me scratching it, why did she just leave it out on the bedroom floor where any passing cat would be tempted by it? That's what I want to know. So what are you in trouble for?"
He said. "I woke your Mum up from her nap and asked her to move her car out of the carport. It was for a really important reason. If the car's gone I can ride my bike around the back yard, through the carport, around the front yard, through the carport again and around the back yard. It's lots of fun. But Dad found out I'd done that and took my bike of me for punishment. My Mum says your Mum can park in the carport and it's bad manners for me to ask her to move it."
I thoughtfully licked my paw. "It sounds like they don't want you to have any fun. I know what that's like. Baby Joey leaves lots of awesome things here to play with, but I get in trouble when I borrow them. It's not as if I take them off her, I just want to play with them when she's not here and not using them anyway. What's wrong with that?"
"It's just grown-ups," he said. "They're always like that. They're trying to make me stop sucking my thumb. And they're all ganging up on me. My sister and I were here the other day, and Mr 19 made us a babycino."
"Mr 19's kind like that," I said. "He's my favourite human."
"But he said I could only have one if I didn't suck my thumb. And I did suck my thumb, and he wouldn't give me the babycino!"
"He what!!!" I was horrified. "He withheld food from you! That's awful. That's almost as bad as the Great Friskies Crisis of 2013. I never would have thought Mr 19 would ever be that mean to anyone! Mum would, but never Mr 19."
"And then," he went on, "my sister said 'I got a babycino and he didn't because he sucked his thumb.' She just had to rub it in."
"That's harsh," I said. "I had a big brother like that. Mr Woof was always a goody-two-shoes and always told Mum on me. If I was napping in his bed, he'd sit beside the bed and cry until Mum came and moved me. He was always so proud of not being in trouble when I was. I told him that no-one likes a tattle-tale, but he didn't listen, and he always told on me."
"It's just not fair," he said.
"It's definitely not fair." I agreed.
It's quite amazing really. I'd always been disturbed by this kid chasing me and wanting to play with me. Who knew he was being just as unjustly maligned by all the bigger humans as I was?
Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
Unjustly Maligned Bloggercat,
Supreme Feline Overlord.