“I said, have you ever thought about therapy?”

I must have been hallucinating. Three years of owning Mr. Meowgly and not once had I had any problems. Seriously, he was a great cat. Even let me leash-walk him through the park some days. But where he really shone through was in the listening department. And now here I was, laying in my Ikea-furnished room, staring at my lovely Tabby boy and hearing it’s soft purring resembling words...or, were they actually words?

“You can stop staring at me now. I just want to help and you’re seeming awfully concerned.”

I just kept staring.

“Well, this was lovely chatting but I have a pole to scratch. If you need me you know where to find me.”

Maybe Mr. Meowgly had a point.