Living indoors is lovely, of course. There are soft blankets, reliable meals, warm spots, and humans who can be summoned when required. But it does mean I have to keep my skills sharp. A cat cannot simply lounge about all day looking beautiful. Well… technically she can. And I do. But one must also train.

To support my professional development, my humans gave me a stuffed cow.
Yes. A cow 🐮. With a very long tail. Not just a tail, really. A tail they normally don’t have. I studied this creature carefully and decided she needed a proper name.

So I called her Moo-Moo Longtail.

Moo-Moo Longtail and I quickly became training partners. Every day, we worked on important indoor-cat skills: pouncing, grabbing, rolling, kicking, surprise attacks, tail inspection, and the ancient art of looking innocent immediately afterwards.

I trained very hard. Perhaps too hard. After several excellent sessions, Moo-Moo Longtail began to show signs of wear. A little stuffing here. A small opening there. This was not damage. This was evidence of progress. Still, even the finest training partner sometimes needs medical attention. So I called a stand-up meeting with my humans.

I sat in the middle of the room with Moo-Moo Longtail beside me and gave them my clearest look a cat can give.

The meeting agenda was simple:

1. Cow broken.
2. Cow important.
3. Please fix cow. Now.

The humans understood. Eventually. Moo-Moo Longtail was taken to the operating theatre, also known as “the table where humans do things with thread and also have a meal”. I watched carefully, because quality control is very important. After a short but dramatic procedure, she returned to me repaired, brave, and ready for the next round. I gave her a respectful sniff. Then I immediately attacked that tail.

Training must continue.

I’ll keep you posted.

Yours,
Mrs. Cotton 🐱🐾