At Christmas my grand-dad bought me some mice to play with. They were really cool. They are made of this cord stuff and they have feathers stuck on them.
I know they are not a bit like real mice but the two legs like to play with me with them so I go along with it and they often give me praise if I bring the mouse back to them when they throw it.
I don't know about you but I think it is quite nice to have someone say nice things about you or to you once in a while. Normally it is "Casper, don't do that" or "Casper, get down from there" so when they say "That's a clever boy, Casper" and rub my head it feels nice and warming.
He can be a bit rough when he rubs my head but I just need to give them a reminder with my claws and everything is OK.
I was playing this morning and he was throwing the mice up the stairs. I was running up fetching it back and getting a bit puffed to be honest. Then he threw one up in the air and it landed in the gap in the banister and and the rail three quarters of the way up the stairs. He called out. "Leave it Cas, I'll get it" but I was there and up on my hind legs, reached onto the banister and hoiked it out and carried it back to him.
He was so thrilled - you'd have thought I had swum the Channel and climbed Everest all in the same morning the way he kept on about me being clever. I basked in the glory and decided to have a snooze on top of the television to celebrate.
Life can be good
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