An Appalling Breach of Trust

Unhappy

I am stunned to my very core. Friends, I find it difficult to put into words the new enormity with which the Catparents terrorise me.

Please excuse me while I take a moment to regroup.

*washes nether regions assiduously whilst in prime position in front window*

There. I feel somewhat restored. Let me continue.

You will recall my earlier skirmish with the dust balls under the sofa. It seems that the Catparents have finally despaired of ever receiving my assistance to remove these monstrous beasts – and, frankly, I am surprised it has taken them so long to come to this astoundingly obvious conclusion.

How could they ever have hoped that I would fall in with their plans? That I, feline marvel for our times, would ever deign to engage in lowly dusting, brushing and sweeping? It makes my remarkably elegant whiskers twitch just to think of it.

But they have now accepted that it is a human’s lot in life to minister to our supremely high standards of cleanliness and comfort; to maintain their home in the manner to which I expect to become accustomed; and to ensure that surfaces are free from all obstacles to our exploration.

And so I thought I had won the battle.

But friends, I come now to the terrible truth. Clearly believing themselves to be above such duties, the Catparents have commissioned a human stranger to enter our abode on a regular basis* and perform not only the clearing out of the dust balls but also a vast array of other tasks!

(*I know not how this time period is measured in human terms. In the lore of our kind, it is ’28 noms’, or ‘not quite long enough for the dried remains of our meaty feasts to become permanently welded to the floor’.)

But there is more. Not only must I suffer the insult of an intruder being given access to my domain (without even the pretence of asking for my permission!), but it transpires that the interloper must bring along a companion. And, horror of horrors, both creatures come armed with a shocking range of armaments and accomplices, which they guilelessly describe as ‘equipment’.

Oh, they attempt to win my affection by stroking my fabulously glossy fur and scratching behind my artfully composed ears (which I must admit I find not completely distasteful) – but I can see through their ploy. And I will not be fooled!

They rampage through the house with the roaring monster known to our kind as Vakyum; they chase me from my various thrones by wielding the weapon we know only as Dusta; and they flood the ground under my delicate paws in an alliance with the dreaded fiend Mopp.

But I will not be cowed. I am convinced that the immaculate home I crave can be achieved with significantly less turmoil than this present arrangement, and I must educate the Catparents into recognising this.

So I pursue my objective by festooning the newly cleared surfaces with my luxurious fur, sitting resolutely in the path of the raiding humans, and padding to and fro over the sparkling wet floors. It will surely not be long before the transgressors throw up their hands in defeat and depart my palace for good, never to return!

Soon. Very soon…