Good vibrations

One of my favourite places for a nap is on the pouffe. It's just the right distance from the fire and I can survey the garden for intruders and any unfortunate prey that may dare to trespass on my territory. It has a soft woolly covering that I have coated in my fur and alluring aroma. The Chief Minion often leaves her detritus strewn carelessly on my coveted spot which gets on my frill. However, this doesn't deter me from sneaking 40 winks if required. Last night, I had settled myself on top of a couple of opened letters delivered that morning, the square plastic things she wears on her eyes and the small plastic box that she spends a lot of time talking to and prodding with her finger. The Chief Minion was upstairs zipping herself into the strange faux giraffe fur she seems to like wearing in the evening when something strange happened. My frill started to vibrate. This was highly unusual and strangely unsettling (but bizarrely not unpleasant). My ears pressed themselves flat against my head in alarm and then I heard........frogs........croaking. I cast my mind back to what I had done that day - nope, I definitely have not been on the catnip so I double check that I am not dreaming. I look down. The frill was shaking, all the fur moving and rippling like a field of wheat caught in the wind. The Chief Minion pranced down the stairs and groped beneath my frill - how rude!! Her hand grasped the small plastic box, she jabs at it with her pointy digit and lifted it to her ear.

I heard her say 'hello?'...

Cheeky mare

I am dozing in a comfy nest of weeds by the myriad of recycling containers (why so many are needed is quite unfathomable to me) as the Chief Minion returns home. Her eyes light up as she sees me lolling in the grass and she bends to stroke my head and give my ears a ruffle. I follow her into the house and watch with interest as she unpacks her shopping. Things are put away in the cold cupboard and then she holds aloft a packet or sachet of food. It's new she tells me, marketed as "cheeky chunks in gravy". The contents are decanted into my special bowl and served. I creep towards it, uncertain. The aroma is meaty, i sniff the air, breathing in the piquant scent of....now, let me think....yes.... It is pterodactyl in some sort of sauce. I edge closer to the bowl, my neck extended about three inches longer than usual as I approach this diversion from the standard menu with caution. I look at the offering - the chunks are in uniform cubes, obviously formed by a machine, not like the usual food I have which is presented in delicious meaty strips, coated in a broth mixed with wild rice. I sit and look at the Chief Minion. She's got to be joking - I can't eat this inferior slop. I stalk away in disgust and vent my displeasure on the corner of the sofa, my claws rasping through the pile on the fabric, so satisfying.

Later, when she is putting the pterodactyls to bed I slope into the kitchen hoping that something else has materialised from the cupboard of delights. No such luck. I watch as she coaxes Marni and Esther into the run - I quickly lick all the gravy from the chunks of meat and dash back to the pouffe to lie down. I hope for the posh nosh in the morning.

Nap time

After our Ginger studies session I return home for a well deserved siesta. I hoover up a few delicious meaty biscuits on my way to choose the best spot for an afternoon nap. I have several favourites based on the following criteria:

Sun

If there is a sliver of sun coming through the window I will lie in it… until I get too hot. I will then lie outstretched on the cool laminate floor with the frill fully exposed in all its glory. This allows the air to circulate freely, ruffle my fur and reach the optimum amount of skin allowing me to reduce my temperature to a comfortable level.

Fire

This is as unpredictable as the sun. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes not. Again, I will lie on the pouffe in front of the toasty flames until I get too hot. I then repeat the cooling technique as described above.

On or at top of the stairs

I have found that the width of a stair is the same as my girth and accommodates my body very comfortably. I often lie snoozing on the 3^rd or 4^th stair down; a large ginger trip hazard for the Chief Minion to have to suddenly negotiate whilst carrying a pile of her temporary ‘fur’ to put in the noisy cleaning machine in the kitchen.

If I lie at the top the Chief Minion has to take a large step over me thus allowing me easy access to “play” with her ankle as it hovers temptingly above my head. This usually elicits a shriek as my unsheathed claws hook into any fur she is wearing, (or an even louder protest if she is furless).

In the wardrobe

I scratch at the antique wardrobe door until it opens and then slink in between the hanging fur belonging to the Chief Minion. It smells of her and I find it oddly comforting and soothing even though I have to sleep on top of her many, many shoe boxes.

On the chaise lounge

This is a prime position to keep one eye out for intruders that may enter my territory. Especially pigeons… I hate them.

Under the bed

This is my cat cave. I do all my important musing here.

In the garden trough

In the summer the Chief Minion makes me a lovely, soft bed of colourful flowers in a stone trough. It is at the back near the fence and is an excellent sun trap. I trample all the pretty plants so they are flat and comfortable to lie on and can easily while away a whole afternoon snoozing here.

I like napping don’t I.

Bed wars

The Chief Minion was up late this morning. She wasn't happy last night   - we were up late which is unusual and she had laid out a little banquet of cheese and mini cheddars (I am fond of both these delights) and some foul smelling liquid that looked like water but had bubbles and smelled vaguely of cucumbers. She refers to this as her naughty tipple -gin and tonic. I would never drink it -smells like poison to my sensitive nose. I stared longingly at her until she broke a bit off a cheddar and put it in front of me to scoff. She then moaned and groaned at the moving pictures of tiny men in shorts moving a ball with their feet. Most strange. Anyway, after releasing the pterodactyls and serving my breakfast she scuttles back to her nest with a cup of tea - I follow and nestle in my spot on the bed. She has tried many times to make me sleep on the inferior side of the bed but I'm not having any of it. My side is nearest the door for ease of access and also near my glass of water which is on the floor by the door (the floor!!). This makes me laugh because what she doesn't know is that I regularly climb on the nightstand and gently lap the water from her posh glass that is kept near the light and the talking box that starts early in the morning most days. Sometimes she will move me to the other side but I immediately claw my way back and squash my body in whatever space is available on the right side. I stay here squashed on a sliver of bed until eventually she gives in, she moves to the inferior side with a sigh and I'm back in the best spot. I stretch out all my limbs and make sure the frill is hanging loose. Time for a power nap I think...