Sunday should be a day of rest – right? And that’s what this cat does best, if only I got the chance. I tried hard in the morning, but Robin was busy “doing the bills” on the computer. Try as I might, he wouldn’t let me jump up on the table and find a cosy place for a snooze. “No, no”, he kept saying. Come on, give me a break, it’s Sunday, after all.
No cats allowed on the table, I’m told
And as for Jenny, it’s obvious that she doesn’t realise that Sunday should be a day of rest. If she wasn’t outside hanging out the washing, she was sitting at her sewing machine, whirring away. And then there was all that banging about in the kitchen, cooking the Sunday roast. Must admit that the roast chicken smells pretty good, not that I will be getting any. Did you know they put me on a special diet – and I’m not even fat! It’s a special kidney diet they tell me, all for the good of my health.
All I’ve been looking for all day is a nice lap to curl up on. I had to admit defeat in the afternoon and have a little sleep on the couch all by myself. But it’s not the same, especially on a Sunday.
A girl needs her rest
Success at last – Robin finally sat down on his recliner chair. I jumped up on his lap as quick as a wink, and settled myself down for a Sunday snooze. That’s what Sunday should be all about, a day of rest. And to be truthful, as far as pussy cat wisdom goes, so is every day!
I’ve been waiting all day for this
Talk to you later, love from Muffy.
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