[What you see]
[What I see]
Ruru the Cat here. Not that I care about books, really. They're one of those person things that don't make a lot of sense to me. My person has this book with these crinkly little pages on which I love to sharpen my claws. Not sure why she gets upset and takes it away. They're such weak little pages, and it gives me great satisfaction to shred them.
[Evidence someone, at least, agrees the world revolves around me]
I'm talking here about one book my person's mom has been working on all week. It's all about me. Because, you know, why shouldn't it be? I'm the center of the universe. Oh, and I guess my person is there, too. There were page after page of my awesomeness. Not that books really excite me, especially those that show me dragged into the snow or put into a costume or ditched by my person or threatened with the bathtub... never mind. Maybe I don't like that book so much after all. Humans can be sneaky with their cruelty.
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