Ginger POV

My hooman is very affectionate. She likes to hug and cuddle. She hugs her mum, she hugs her dad, her teddies and even me. I'm not a fan of long hugs, but I know she means well; like when I head butt her gently, nuzzle to her side to leave my hairs on her and her possessions, when I bring home mice and she scoops them into a see-through box (I never see them again afterwards. I wonder where she keeps them. Does she have them for lunch?) and snooze in her lap when she watches tv.

Then she hugs her friend Buttercup.

They hug for a long time. They kneel down or sit cross-legged, their hands in each others and rest their heads together. It's like if they were meditating. They smile and are clearly very happy together and it all feels very peaceful.

One day, I was disturbed from my usual 14 hour snoozing, when the mum hooman was cleaning with a noisy contraption with a long nose. My favorite spot is in the living room, on a pillow seated on the window ledge where I can look out. Hooman Robin put it there for me and I enjoy chattering while watching the birds. With mum hooman making a racket, I had to make my way upstairs, providing I could find some quiet in Robin's room.

There they were again. Content in each other's embrace. It was hard to tell if the hooman's had fallen asleep. Once in a while, Robin would nuzzle her friend, like I do to her, and the powerpuff would make a delighted, warm chuckle. I leaped up onto the bed, onto the corner and curled into my usual fuzz mound ball.

I slept what only felt like a few minutes, before nature called and my tummy started growling. Immediately, my head conjured thoughts of the packets of jelly and cubed meat the hoomans gave me for breakfast, lunch and supper and I licked my lips. Stretching myself out with a yawn, I politely approached my hooman who was still holding her friend. I pawed at her lower back lightly and meowed. I sat to attention, posed like a Bastet, on guard, but found my actions were not attended to with the attention I had desired. Perhaps I had been too light.

This time, I pressed twice and murmured. Surely, I don't have to be on the prowl for food every day of my life, do I? Do hooman's know how hard it can be?

Losing my patience, I lifted up both my paws and pushed. That'd be sure to get their attention. Just to make sure I absolutely wasn't being ignored, I came around to see their expressions and saw that their lips were meshed together clumsily, their cheeks turned a harsh rouge. Was this also an affectionate custom? They seemed to be a confusing blend of shock, embarrassment and repulsion. After a few seconds of surprise, they withdrew, the tomboy holding up a fist defensively to her mouth, that rouge spreading further along her face. Was she sick? Had I done this? Had I done something wrong?

"Ginger!" exclaimed my hooman.

Instinctively, I arched my back, startled, but she brought me to her, kissing my head "Silly kitty. Are you hungry?"

I was. "Meow"

She took me down to the kitchen. Robin wore the same expression as her friend. Red in the face, but not angry. Rather, she seemed shaken, unsure. She was upset. Should I not have pushed her? Can I make it up to her?

I emitted a light purr, nuzzling her and, as we reached the fridge, she petted me with a little smile "Were you jealous of me hugging Buttercup? Did you want attention too?" she proposed, holding me out to face me. Ears flattened, I murmured inwardly, unamused.

An absurd analogy. Yes, I wanted attention. Jealousy? I beg to differ. It'd be quite a day where I met another feline who found themselves envious of a hooman. The intense shade of red began to fade and return to normal, although she still seemed tense.

End

(Very short story, to help me keep going with writing. See what you guys think).