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On His Hairiness’s Service

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What? Oh, is it my turn now? What’s this thing with the light on it? Does it move if I push it? Oh yes! What? Oooh, look! Sorry, Robbie – Your Hairiness, I mean. Yes, of course I want to be your confidential secretary and transmit your deathless thoughts to all your global followers on the World Wide Web. Ooh, a web. Does it have flies in it? I like chasing flies. When I’m a bigger cat I’ll be allowed to go outside and chase birds, too. What? Oh, all right. His Hairiness says that the house-humans like birds, and they like them best alive. Okay. I’m happy to be corrected. After all, I’m only six months old, and I’ve only lived in His Hairiness’s household for six days – I’m sure I’ve got plenty to learn.

Eh? Oh yes. My name is Marco, after Signor Polo, the great explorer. My greatest exploration so far has been halfway up the smaller chimney but then the Mum blocked it up with cardboard. His Hairiness says she’s often like that.

I used to live with a different set of house-humans but I was too irritating to the senior cat. His Hairness says he can understand that. They’re not all spoil-sports, though, these house-humans. The Aidan is my particular friend and protector – he lets me into his personal territory to eat and sleep and even do the unmentionable litter tray business. Oh, sorry. His Hairiness says that sort of language isn’t appropriate in his refined journal. As I said, I’ve got a lot to learn. Oh look, another key to jump on! What happens if I do thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii