Scouty here, with a confession.
I like the peeps.
Yup, I do.
Even though I do not allow Touching, I've become rather social lately; not only showing up for treats (I get three shrimps, broken up) but also hanging out in the doorway of Daddy's office every evening, watching him.
It's sorta embarrassing to admit this, but I've also started sleeping on Mommy's bed. Mostly when she's not in it, but occasionally I'll s-l-o-o-o-w-l-y slither onto the foot of the bed when she's sitting up reading. (Mommy: I pretend he's invisible)
And when she's not in bed, I like to sleep on her pillow. It smells really good there and I make Serious Biskits for a long time before I settle in. Things are to the point where I give her Dirty Looks when she wants to get in bed, because I don't want to move! But I have to, or I'd get squashed by her bony bum.
But don't worry, friends, I'm still aware that at any moment Impending Doom could descend in the form of Cream o'Scouty Stew. I am ever vigilant. Except maybe for that one time last week when Mommy snuck in on me (while I was having a wonderful dream about shrimp) and petted me a half dozen times.
Dirty pool, Mommy.
Anyway, I wrote a poem about my fear. Perhaps expressing it in verse will help dispel my trepidation.
A paranoid kitty named Scout
viewed a bubbling cauldron with doubt
The Chef, grasping pincers
said "You must get in sir
Cat Stew ain't the same if without!"
There. I feel better already.
XX Scouty XX