Most of the time the human obeys my commands— I’ve trained her well—except when she becomes feral, (see Never Completely Trust Your Human). She can also be ANNOYING and I wonder what is she thinking?
Usually, when I’m trying to snooze, she’ll ruffle the fur on my head, or if I’m stretched out, spread her big mitt over my tail, so that I can’t flick it from side to side. A nip or a paw swipe stops her.
When I try and groom the human, she pushes me away. It’s hard as my tongue sticks to her skin or cloth she has on. ‘Hey, I’m just being affectionate.’
Her grooming technique is strange. She stands under heavy water, which splashes into a giant bowl and goes down a hole. It’s fun swatting at drips trickling down the sides, or lapping up puddles after she has gone.
I’m not happy when she chases a chirping, feathered ball away from my clutches, or removes something that I want to pounce on and play with. There are some crawly things with lots of hairy legs that move fast around the walls. Funny looking, their eyes are on stalks. Harry and Henrietta huntsman – that’s what the human calls them. Like me, they are active at night and my eyes follow their every move. ‘Come down, so I can have some fun.’
In the morning, Harry, the bigger one, is resting further down the wall. My nose wrinkles. The human appears, sneaks up and catches him in a container.
‘Hey, he’s mine – a snack to play with and nibble on!’ I bite her lower leg. I’ve been waiting all night to reach him. After yelling out, the human takes Harry outside.