if Maudie could talk between her Sunday naps, she'd say

i like mice. 

i like to kill mice, 

toy mice. 

i like to pretend kill my toy mice. 

i like to tear things apart. 

i like to tear cardboard apart mostly. 

i like to shred it in the night, 

and leave the debri scattered about the rugs. 

i like to wake up very early in the morning. 

i like to meow until my breakfast is served, 

eat precisely half of the bowl, 

then meow until i am pet. 

i like to scratch my scratch post.

i like to jump onto the bed and walk across your chest,

put my face against your face,

and meow until i am pet.  

i like to poop after my breakfast. 

i like to cover it up and then rub my paws on the bathroom walls. 

i like coffee bags. 

i like laying on them, 

biting them, 

digging my nails into them, 

and using them to claw my way around the bottom of the living room table. 

i like balls. 

squishy balls, 

aluminum foil balls,

rubber band balls. 

i like anything that rolls. 

i like strings. 

i like strings tied to feathers,

strings that hang from the bed sheets and the blinds.

i like computer cables, 

and anything that moves back and forth when i swat it with my paws. 

i like naps. 

i like my spot on top of the sofa, 

and my grey knit blanket. 

i like to lay here, unmoved,

to fall in and out of sleep. 

i like to fall in and out of sleep. 

i like…