Good day, Foul Beings of BiblioNyan. Welcome to my hooman’s long-vacant blog space. They have had much more vital things to tend to these last few months, such as my grooming and pampering and special kibble preparations, as well as reading to me while I slumber to ensure lovely dreams of mice murder mayhem, and of course the constant dedication to doting of my utmost beauty. I typically do not require any introductions for I am the Supreme Being of All, however, I shall make an acceptance of your ignorance, but only because I am feeling grateful and uncharacteristically generous on this cold and mundane Saturday morning.
I am their Lord and Knightly King, Sir Khebbertons the First of His Name, Holy Cat Cow of the Realm of California, and Water Hoarder of the World. Tis a somewhat mild pleasure to meet you, although I am sure the pleasure and honour is entirely yours, for I am the one and only Purrfect Emperor of All Entities.
Whilst the hooman has been preoccupied with my complete and ultimate care, they have also, to my great dismay, been focusing on this petty little thing called “work” and “self-care.” Dreadful distractions, dare I say, but whatever helps to keep them grounded and focused on my meticulously fluffy affections I suppose I must make exceptions for. A King is not complete without the over-extended energies exerted via their peons and underlings. How can I sit atop my plush, woollen thrones if I must awake to complete every idiotic and humdrum task myself? No, no, no. Le Hooman is much more suited for that brand of balderdash.
Since they have worked themselves down to their puny little bones, I have been convinced (via the careful purrsuasion of quality Nip-d’œuvres) to provide them with a couple of days of recompense by way of flimsy and rather chewable, yet horridly tasteless bricks that seem to be quite rudely stacked in my sole area of slumber.
I vaguely recall the hooman flexing their thin, elongated claws on a clicky-clacky device where they chat about these bricks with excited exuberance. Such endeavours are far beneath my stratum, and also require a level of labouring that I find to be unappealing to say the least. So, rather than bore myself with an utterly unexciting undertaking, I shall merely portray the bricks in their appearance. Do what you may with them, that is if my impatience and fabulous fangs don’t get to them first.
Anyhoo, cheerio, beings of boredom. The hooman shall return within the moon’s rising. If you would wish to gift me with lovesome words of respect and reverence, please do so, and I may just grace your remarks with a royal reply myself.