
Meow, mum, I see that you created an effigy of me and I must say that I am quite well pleased.
I know most ladies do not want to be put on a pedestal and would pref, instead, a sushi feast.
Yes, some fishy food is first choice for me, but I still want my glory uplifted to public display.
Use it only as a paper weight? Not unless you want a scritch instead of a squish my Miss Astray.
How oft, post-campestral-prowls, have I foisted gifts de rodentia to your sleep place as gestures of love?
I certainly think my likeness at top of perron—on a plinth replacing the door—might be enough.
Well, it seems that you put quite some time into the masterpiece of me and, indeed, it is quite supurrr.
For it takes me time, as well, to find your prezzies in the queaches, especially in the junipurrr.
Feline, mom-mine, I will tell you a secret, but you must promise to keep it just between me and mew.
You are—truth—the only foundation I need and morning pounces are my way of saying, “I love you!” ; )