Yesterday, my humans committed the same household offence they have committed many times before.

They brought out the vacuum cleaner.

I was resting peacefully, supervising the living room from a strategically selected position, when the machine appeared without warning. No consultation. No written notice. Not even a polite request for approval.

Then it began.

The noise was entirely unreasonable. It roared across my kingdom as if the carpet had personally offended it. Chairs were moved. Cushions were lifted. Dust was pursued with a level of determination my humans rarely show when I request an early dinner.

Naturally, I withdrew to a secure observation point.

This was not fear. I would like that entered into the official record.

It was a tactical relocation.

From a safe distance, I monitored the operation carefully. The vacuum cleaner moved from room to room, swallowing crumbs, fluff and several perfectly respectable pieces of floor decoration that I had been keeping for administrative purposes.

My humans seemed pleased with themselves afterwards. They admired the clean carpet and spoke proudly about how fresh everything looked.

Fresh?

The entire house smelled suspiciously of effort.

I do understand that household maintenance is sometimes necessary. A well-run palace requires standards. However, I must insist on a few improvements.

First, all future vacuuming sessions must be announced at least one nap in advance.

Second, my current sleeping place must be declared a protected royal zone.

Third, any treats offered afterwards must be considered compensation, not bribery.

I have placed both humans on a short remedial training programme. Their continuing education points will remain under review until they demonstrate better judgement.

For now, I have returned to the living room and inspected their work.

The carpet is acceptable.

The disturbance was not.

Yours, Mrs. Cotton 🐱🐾