Duchess of Yowl (early this morning): Thumbs! THUMBS!
Me (rousted from sound sleep): Wha? WHAT?
Me (stumbling about, looking for glasses, or cat, or both) Where are you?
A cacophony of sound erupts from the television.
Me (befuddled): Your grace, are you in the television?
DoY (muffled): Clearly not. Svelte as I am, even I do not fit inside a flat screen tv.
Me (now also looking for remote, and/or glasses, and/or cat): Let me turn on the light.
Oh good, it's 3am. Just the right time for a little cat hide and seek.
DoY: Get me OUT of here!
Me (spotting movement on couch): ok, are you under the cushions? (removes cushions)
No you are not. Wait, (pulls afghan from behind back cushions, and unrolling cat) there you are!
DoY: Finally! I was set upon by the evil afghan when I was walking along the back of the couch. It tried to eat me!
Me: Clearly the afghan is in league with the vacuum cleaner.
DoY: Evil beasts, I don't know why they are allowed to live here.
Me: Entertainment value.
DoY: I should be all the entertainment you require.
Me: You're a double act.
DoY: Speaking of acting, shouldn't you be performing your role of tuna can opener?
Me: Of course your grace. Here you go.
DoY (through tuna scented whiskers): Thankfully, some decent service in this place.
Me: Happy Thanksgiving your grace.