Scrapbooking

       Why are you staring at me, silly piece of fur? Haven't you ever seen a witch? Look at those button eyes, look at those pretty paws. Wanna uppy? And do you know, tiny, how much milk or the cheapest sprats cost in the market? And let's not mention premium cat food. And have you seen my retirement allowance? It's even smaller and punier than you! Your ration here in the petshop must be better, I bet. Yes, and don't even dream of cat litter! You'd have to go to my garden to bury all your tiny waste products. I am old, I can't wipe or evaporate your puddles. No, please don't scratch the showcase glass with your kitty-claws. Follow the example of your neighbours, curl up into a ball, and sleep. A big family with a big house will adopt you soon, they will love you and smother you. Who wouldn't love such a pretty, clever boy? I see it in your eyes, you're pretty smart. You will grow up very quickly, and stop being so darn cute, and they'll return you to this showcase. In the best case. Or, they may just dump you near a highway miles and miles from home when you start meowling, scratching wallpaper, or spraying curtains and sofas. And I don't even have wallpaper… No, turn away, don't open your pink mouth, I don't hear you through the glass anyway. I am old; I don't have time to dally here with you. And, you know what? I have a cat already. And not just one. They are all adult cats, they will chase such tiny kittens all through the garden. They'll catch you, lick you clean, then catch you again and lick you up twice. Do you need that kind of trouble? And no, they are not my familiars. Training cat assistants takes a long time and is hard. Not every cat survives it. And I am an old, frail witch, I don't need such stress as digging a grave for an unlucky cat in the garden. Give me a break! I am off, I'm too busy to watch you, no matter how funny you roll on your back. I see, I see, you are soft and silky, and just love playing. And you'll fit into my hat just right. So-o... No, no witnesses around at this hour of night. Transgressio vitri. But don't you peep a sound! Sit still under my hat, hold tight with your claws. I wear a wig, you can't hurt me. You will be my per cat, just that, not a familiar. I'll name you Alibaba—because I have forty more such bandits at home.