"Time to get up, Muffinface." The voice was gruff, the tall cat it was attached to frowning but Sery paid neither telling aesthetic any heed. The murmurs from the blunt fanged mouth were nothing she understood but the chink of wide glass being laid down and the slosh of fat-free milk being poured in she knew. Breakfast. As in confirmation, the sun's rays beamed stripes into the small open room her tall cat lived in. He was a thoughtful thing and despite the canned muck he himself partook in daily, the sink was free of the stench of garbage, the bin itself had a consistently used lid and her own food had mastication quality fit for a days old cat. He had also and fittingly, quickly caught on that for one cat to sleep in a cot reeking with the smell of another cat was completely inappropriate and quickly made amends to make it, and the surrounding space, aroma-free. No matter the comfiness, had he prolonged with the state, their's would have been an incompatible teamup from end to end. As it was, she met his needs and he, hers.
She sat up, leaning into her right hinds and graced him with an adorable blink. She allowed him to ruffle her fur with a many toed paw, all traces of being up before sunup disappearing as her thick fur responded to the subtle static on his own paws. She had played the successful nightwatch guard for another four days now. Quietly and serenely observing as was her namesake, the darkness and shadows.Almost three nights since they moved here. And as many months since the tall cat adopted her. Out of the prying hands of the screaming tall but pudgy kitten who had been her first caretaker and done a poor job at it. Not being one to hold grudges, she hoped at least, they were able to get a voice change somewhere later in life.
Her musing and sun preening is interrupted by her current caretaker. Perhaps believing she had no paws of her own, he'd picked her up, claws prodding into her sides and placed her before the milk himself. The sudden spin of landscape was never one she could get used to but she appreciated his help gracefully and patted the back of his paw that had taken rest down beside her before bending her head to lap at the milk. Wordlessly, paw and cat left, making short rummaging noises from a little further away. That meant her caretaker was about to start his day outside. Beyond the tall white gates surrounding the grassier premises. Where she had learned from her time caged with many other, nosier cats, she was never to go as well for fear of ever more horrible noise. Something in her still shook at the sight of large blocks of black, white or any other color.
She took two more laps then strightened to inspect the cat door. Once and in the tall-cat previous house, she had caught a whisker and some side fur in it. Yet another once, uncountable moons ago, it had been locked and she had been deprived of her afternoon sun on the delightfully wide deck that was clearly her right and his forgetfulness. This house had no deck but with an equally delightful, ancient windmill of a clothesline, it was her duty since to check the main flap was always in full and working order. She could not tell from her current position, centered on her warm and sun speckled, personal rug. She padded over and lifting one paw, lightly pushed. Her ears stayed out of the equation just in case but as the flap gave way as easily as any day, she leans forward to sniff the stray dew-dropped air. She lets it fall and swing back the other way once, twice. Then she pushes her head through and plods into the garden.
