Bonjour, human biped food slaves. It is I, Lulu, coming to you from my throne in MY HOUSE, and let me tell you something. I understand there has been a great deal of controversy and drama surrounding me in the last week or so, and I want to make something very clear. I am fine. I do not feel sick, I apply, much to the shame of my feline dignity, much affection towards my biped food slave, or, as she might be called around here as of late, "the insane cleaning woman" and do not show a single symptom of being anything but the lady I am. Dignity. That's the key around here.
Fine. So I enjoy a little recreational time. That does not make me any less of a dignified lady, a quality that is sorely missing around this flat. Can I please tell you what my human biped food slave has been doing since the untimely passing of my brother, Stewart? She's been scouring every surface, vacuuming every day (sometimes TWICE) and when she's not rearranging furniture, she is lavishing attention upon me, which I accept with the understanding that I am to be worshiped like my ancestors before me, don't tell me, I KNOW. The ancient Egyptians worshiped cats, as well they should have. What, you think I can't Google?
So there you have it. And now, my long awaited eulogy for my departed brother.
Dear Stewart: Although we did not get along for the most part, with you being as dumb as a bag of hair and me being supreme ruler of the household, for all your ridiculous antics, you were still my brother, and I mourn you. Yes, it's true. When you did not come home that terrible day, I looked for you, under your favorite tablecloth, and under the bed and dresser, and I must confess that I might have been in denial a bit. But I understand now that you have gone through the magic closet to Narnia, and someday we will all join you. I'm staying as far away from that closet as I can, by the way. I have much business here to attend to.
I have been comforting our mother to the best of my abilities, and I stick close to her wherever she goes, mostly because for some reason your passing has made my diet tremendously better, with canned food twice a day, and none of that vile kibble that she insisted on feeding us. So thank you for allowing me to be spoiled beyond belief. It's grand.
Have a good afterlife, my brother. You are sorely missed. And at the risk of my feline dignity, I will confess that I do, in fact, love you.
We are going to have to have words regarding the words "new baby" which have been tossed about as of late. A new…kitten? I can't even imagine the nightmare. This is entirely your fault.
There, is that sufficient?
I'm late for my nap. Au revoir, human biped food slaves. My mother will be back tomorrow.
With barely contained disdain, no matter how much I snuggle you,