iCat Day (Update)

I get out of bed to make the my wife an early-morning cup of tea. No sooner have I set foot in the kitchen than I espy the ghastly shape of iCat hunched outside the window. He emits a minimal but unmistakable meow, his take on the MGM lion, and I open the kitchen door. Anxious to create the impression that he just happens to be passing by, he stretches languidly before coming in, thereby letting a wave of icy air into the house. Whilst I set out about making the my wife's tea, he busies himself bashing into the kitchen stools and digging his claws into what used to be my thigh muscles.

After a while, he lopes off in the direction of the bedroom, gathering speed as he goes along, before hurling himself onto the bed. There he stays until 7 pm when he strolls across the road for a delicious meal of whiskas. That's iCat's day and it's pretty much ours as well. If anyone knows how we can break free of this infernal cycle, I would be most obliged.

iCat's keyboard skills are a thing to behold. Unfortunately, he uses a code which Turing and Co. have yet to crack.