Today there’s all kind of action outdoors. I was excited at all the movement at first but its just big clumps of snow falling off the roof, not birds.

Guess I’m getting along ok. Since that last vet abduction in the fall, my farts are gone and I’m not so powerfully thirsty as I was. Must be the chicken I’ve had since.

Do you know about this stuff? Ever since I got one of these treats every morning my stiff hips don’t seem so bad.

Life’s full of chicken. Some days I don’t get it but I believe it’s out there.

At first I thought I won some kind of territory settlement. I get the whole place plus a new servant as a bonus. But after a week the beans came back and the huggy lady bean servant went away. She left me the catnip pillow tho. Hope your new years were good. 

The man came in smelling of dog. And right by the knees of smoky brick with a distinct trace of sausage. Where’s mine?

There is a great big taller than me pile of papers. Now that I don’t get furballs as much, I don’t know why the beans keep so many around. 

How many legs must a cat walk up and down before they give her a moan and frown?How many dives must a cat be forced to make, before their head pillow goes around?How many swats will it take til they know, dark or not, it is time to get downand feed a sweet cat, the supper they forget? Is the answer of tuna now in the fridge? 

A bunch of beans spilled in. They made a lot of noise. I watched from my bookshelf. One of them brought the kind of plastic bag that sometimes is fresh-baked chicken. I bolted from my spot and stuck my head in the bag to make sure if there was chicken I would get it. There wasn’t. I return to my statuary position, ready to mount any sofa-trolls who may sit for long enough for me to make myself comfortable.

I have been training the beans. Or maybe we’ll been coming to a working agreement. The male bean doesn’t feed me but he does give good lap and petting service so he’s a keeper. The female bean is the one who gives breakfast. If I try to wake her with whisker to the ear, I get hugged as if I were a pillow. This won’t do for feline dignity. I am not a piece of cotton. I think I’ll just wait until she makes some of that bean meowing. Then I’ll go bellow and bounce on her bladder.

My beans have brought me a tree. How nice is that? It doesn’t smell like tree but there are pretty balls. When they’re away tomorrow I’ll make good use of the environmental enrichment and see how many I can hide under the sofa.

The female bean with the pillow soft legs is home and I have pinned her with my purr weight to the sofa. She can’t move. She won’t move. I won’t permit it. If she threatens to move I shall jiggle my toes on her bladder and let her know I’ll make a sea of both of us.