(302 words) I stretch and yawn, settling back into my little spot on the windowsill, the last few rays of sunlight hitting my face. I get to cleaning my paws, then jump nonchalantly onto the carpet below, slinking into the kitchen to see, to my disappointment, that there's no food for me. I park myself by the bowl and let out a few complaining mewls before deciding I have better things to do with my time. I stroll out to the cat flap and in one swift, dignified, movement, slink outside (totally didn't walk into the door first, nope, no way, I'm far too great for such things). Perhaps there will be food when I get back, I decide, strolling out into the back yard, and jumping onto the fence. I prowl for a while, but when it becomes apparent that there are no birds or pray of any kind around, I settle on my favourite spot under the neighbour's Magnolia tree. I sit there, for a few minutes at least, before I get bored and jump down into the neighbour's yard. They sometimes have mice under their porch step. Not today, I notice, rather disappointed. After I feel the area has been thoroughly investigated, I find a sunny spot to lounge. I stay there until the neighbour comes out, and I go to greet her. She pets me, and says something I don't understand. I purr, pushing my face against her hand. Once it gets dark, she goes back inside, and I decide it's time for me to do the same. Inside, I park myself by the food bowl and complain more decisively this time. To my satisfaction, I am rewarded with a bowl full of food. Once I have finished eating, I stretch out on my favourite blanket and go to sleep.
