My paws pitter patter on the smooth wooden panels of the mahogany desk, a purr erupting from my throat as I encounter an anomaly; a thing softer than I can imagine, and all I’m compelled to do is bury myself in it’s confines and never emerge.

I’m the bearer of nine lives, a cheeky and cunning survivor of the animal kingdom, but I rather prefer to spend my days lounging about and tricking extra food out of my human companions. I’m a scaler of heights beyond mere mortal’s imaginations, and often I found myself staring down at my human, a sense of pride welling in my chest. But beyond that, there is no other pride I can owe up to, than having the pure ability to direct all attention to me. My lithe body blocks all distractions and, paired with (let’s admit) my beautiful coat of fur, belly rubs are abundant all around.

I like to think I’m different from my brethren, not that I’ve met many but I’ve heard their calls in the night, goading me for some fun escapade that surely my human would end up scolding me for. So I stick to myself, a solidary night creature, and as the loud shrill noises awake my companion once more everyday as the sun rises, I am content. Though, I don’t see the big deal about Mondays.