Morgan in the doghouse

I'll set the scene: Another day, another mouse. I'm lying on the sofa resting myself when I hear that word "bedtime." It sounds down the stairs, the lights go out and I head straight for my flap. It is locked, fishcakes. My tail is flicking and another night descends on me. Scooby has already reserved his place upstairs - he went up there about 3 hours ago. What is a cat to do? Nobody tells Prince Morgan Lucky what to do... nobody. After kicking up a fuss (for all those cats out there: with your front paws grasp the hand and with your back paws kick) I give in to pressure and my sleep driven desires and make my way to my bed. I love it really, my bed I mean. I snub Katty's bed (try and sleep on it with her continuous turning and mumbling throughout the night) and go into my kingdom. What do you think? It is MINE. I'll tell you the story about how this kennel was acquired. It was around bonfire night (nearly here yet again unfortunately) a night when everything with four legs and sensitive ears is frightened to shivers under the sofa and our other next door neighbour (not the one we grace with our presence every morning) Rosie was no exception. Being the thoughtful companions they are, Rosie's friends decided to buy her a safe-house. Unfortunately Rosie is afraid of the dark so they asked me if I would like it. It was perfect. My own house. My own place where no humans could get in. I took to it straight away. Two years on it still is (thankfully Scooby isn't very keen). This is my bed and where I go at night-time. I am very proud of it and want to show it to the world. The moral of the story is.... every dog has its day and every cat has it's kennel. Oh yes and please be considerate on firework night. Katty's getting fed up of stepping in my sick in the morning.