I’m not allowed on the couches around here and it’s totally not fair. My people get to sit on those nice comfy couches – they can even curl up on them if they want to, and wrap themselves in nice, toasty blankets. What makes it even worse is that Scratchy is allowed to get on the couch any time he wants. As a matter of fact, Scratchy is allowed on all the furniture – the couches, the chairs, and even the beds.
Scratchy is even allowed on the countertops. Well, at least the one where his food is. I don’t know why my people don’t feed him on the floor. They feed me there.
I’m totally relegated to the floors. The hard, cold floors.
Person, you don’t have to ruin my story. I know there’s carpet on the floors and I have a bed I can lay on. I’m trying to make everyone feel sorry for me.
Anyway, I’d like my turn on the couch too but I have to wait until my people leave the house to get my chance. When I hear a car in the driveway I quickly get up and head to the door to greet my people. That way they aren’t suspicious at all.
Today I blew it though. I don’t know what happened. I must have really been sleeping soundly. I didn’t hear a thing – and then, there she was. My person had come in the door.
Oops! — I’m in trouble now!