I recall with a nostalgic pang of sadness the days when I was just expected to be a cat, (yesterday and last week), the times when the governess was hacking hairballs, or sneezing and I got a week off from school. Oh, those moments of leisure were pure JoY!
To occupy the time off from lessons, my Lady gave me a precious gift: an odorless, cotton- stuffed mouse to race with. The creature was rather dull, (just how I like my mice friends to be). I spent many an hour pouncing on its tail and smashing it against the wall.
"AH, WHAT FUN!" I shout.
The princess looks up from her literature book.
"What did you just say, Whisker?!" Are you daydreaming again? You are supposed to be listening, now pay attention."
She continues her story about a Barbie who became the first woman to drive a plastic convertible on Mars. I really don't think that's what the book is about since its title is Les Miserables.
I think that means: "This rubbish will make you crazy-sad like Van Gogh," in French. Oh, how I miss the Rat Race!