I, of course, am Princess. I will admit to you that I am the computer-cat. It's my right by birth and position to sleep on top of the monitor. The boss used to have a very large monitor which was extremely comfortable, but he got rid of it and Junior put me on the new monitor and I fell off. How disgusting. It was flat ...
Gran calls me Prinny-winny, but I tolerate it as only nobility can, because me upbringing has taught me to respect the older generation.
Now, that 'Fluffy', as he is known has kindly said I came from a home for 'Wayward Queens'. I will have you know I am actually a princess, not a queen. Breeding will 'out', you know. Can I help it if I was abandoned as a kitten? At least i had one litter of precious royalty before being captured and held in prison. Of course, they recognised royalty at once, and I was well treated there, but still, I was dragged off to the doctors to have my wee operation as well. That's when they discovered I was older than I looked.
Time came for me to be released, and the powers that be brought a young lady straight to me. (We call her 'Kat' in admiration...) Me, mind you, not one of those cute little munchkins. She could see I was quality. Even if I was in my own bedroom in the prison wardens' own home!
The worse thing about being in my new home was 'that boy'. We are not allowed to name names, no, that would never do for a princess such as I. My lady in waiting (whom Fluffy calls the missus) calls him Junior in these blogs of hers. (She is lucky I share my computer with her, actually.)
'That boy' wanted to carry me around like a cheap bag of fluff, but I still object to being carried around. It's a leftover thing from my wee 'op'. If I am to be carried at all it is by the lady in waiting, and I stand, rather than sit, over her shoulder. I then dig my claws in as only royalty can, and there is much ado about nothing, really. Why that woman can't just let me claw my way down her back as I am removed from her shoulder I will Never Know. Sigh. Good help is so hard to get these days, especially in these far lands. I would call them the antipodes, but perhaps I would be using words my royal audience is not used to?
The boy, of course, is getting older, and as long as Queen Helen does not incarcerate him for a further two years in high school, we will be able to get him out of the house sooner rather than later, just as we have removed the 'others'. I refuse to mention the two American Pit Bull Terriers. So common, those Americans...
I, of course, opted to stay behind to keep the head castle running smoothly when my Real Owner moved out. Plus she took those two 'pretenders' (lady in waiting calls them the munchkins) with her, so Life is so much easier now.
I just have to get rid of that spanish upstart 'Blondamundo' (have you ever heard anything so ridiculous in all your un-royal life?), and life will be back to normal, as far as normal goes. Sometimes I think I came from the Home for Wayward Queens straight into Bedlam.
Yes, Bedlam can be a good description for my castle. What with One Too Many Cats, (whom lady in waiting absolutely refuses to carry to bed) (good for her!!!) and the early morning rush to get to school/work/my day room (commonly known as the Garage but I shall rename it the Grange) and food to be prepared for oneself, it is a madhouse.
Now, speaking of food, if We ever deign to come and visit you, should you be so lucky, I must tell you that I only eat James' best Veal (or as my lady in waiting calls it - Jimbo's). As you will see from my portrait below, it keeps me at my very best. No need to smear goo on my face like the maids... The finest skin, smooth fur, beautiful eyes... Can you see the Egyptian style eyeliner - it's all natural, you know. Just don't mind the flash on my royal muzzle.
I will say no more, it is not the royal way to talk too much about one's beauty. Just see for yourself, and Admire. Fare thee well, loyal subjects...
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