“Howie, come here!” the she-servant said. “I want to pet you. You are so handsome… aww, look at you! Come here, Howie!”

No. I will not come.

“Howie! Honey, come sit with momma!” she pleaded again.

No. And you are definitely not my “momma”, you disgusting heap.

“Lou-Lou Belle, Lou-Lou Belle! Come here, Lou-Lou Belle!” she said.

I HATE it when she calls me Lou-Lou Belle. Look at me. I am a fierce male cat. I am not anybody’s Lou-Lou Belle. What an insult! Of course I won’t reward her misbehavior by sitting with her. Besides, you wouldn’t know it by looking at it, but this paper bag I’m lounging on is very comfortable.

I stretched.

“Baby, I know you can hear me,” she said. “Please come sit with me. I want to pet you, honey.”

Definitely not. I turned my head to the side and looked toward the kitchen, pretending I cannot hear.

Finally, she went back to sipping her morning coffee. Silence fell across my kingdom.

I know the peace won’t last long. What Cat? is likely to walk by, which will cause me to chase her. (That is her fault.) The she-servant will pick me up then. She will hold me too tight and tell me she loves me, before smearing her greasy hands all over my face and forehead.

I am forced to remain here as long as I can, enjoying my wealth and general well-being.