You think I'm sleeping. Heh.
I am, at present, planning my latest outrage.
You will have forgotten about that vole by tonight. Yes, I watched you chasing the stupid thing around the kitchen. I could not be bothered to finish it off - so much more fun to watch you trying to throw a towel over it, only to find that it had died just at the point of rescue.
I was annoyed anyway. I bring you these presents, show my love for you, and you act as if I have committed some kind of crime. I'll do the same tomorrow - will you never learn?
You pretend to understand every word I say but as soon as I tell you I need food you produce a flea comb. I hate that, and I don't have fleas. Do you know how much care I take over my appearance? I spent hours and hours grooming this perfect body and I go to untold lengths to show your guests how clean I am in the bottom department. Some thanks I get for it.
Let's also get another thing straight. Your lap is there for me as I want it, as are the kitchen worktops, the fat cushion in the front room, the chair you have just warmed up and your bed is definitely designed for three. Maybe you could tell him to sleep downstairs and then there would be no problem.
By the way, could you also have a word with him. I am not 'a black rat' and neither, according to you, am I 'mummy's precious darling'. I am a predator, a vicious killer, one whisker away from feral, one tummy tickle away from leaving you all to answer the the call of the wild.
Now, leave me to my plotting. I will require a headscratch in about an hour but until then you can make yourself scarce.