The Manling has become increasingly bold.
He arrived in the evening carrying food that smelled significantly better than my own dinner. This alone was offensive enough, but matters deteriorated rapidly from there. My human and the manling sat together at the table, laughing and speaking in those soft ridiculous voices humans use when they are pleased with one another.
Did they share this clearly superior meal with me?
They did not. Not a single bite.
I positioned myself nearby to remind them of my existence and the grave injustice unfolding before them. I sat with dignity. I stared with intensity. At one point I even placed a paw delicately upon the manling’s leg with what I believed was a restrained and elegant request.
Nothing. The audacity of these people.
The Manling did apologize to me at one point and scratched beneath my chin with acceptable skill, but apologies without snacks are hollow gestures. I fear humans have lost sight of what truly matters.
As if this insult were not enough, the Manling then remained in the house overnight.
Overnight.
He moved about the kitchen in the morning as though he belonged here, making coffee and speaking softly to my human while she smiled in that tired happy way humans do. The fireplace was warm. The house smelled peaceful.
It was… annoyingly pleasant.
I observed them carefully from atop my tower while pretending not to care. My human laughed more than usual. The Manling opened the curtains for me without being asked. He even refreshed my water bowl after noticing it was half empty.
This is how they get you.
Still.
The dinner situation remains unresolved. I expect reparations in the form of tuna.
With continued scrutiny,
Mr. Biggles
