This Not is a Places of Softs

The uncushioned belongings of My People do not be places of softs.

Nevertheless I demean myself to make my sprawlings upon them, for I am a small plush god and I sleeps where I chooses.

All of the Waters are Mine

My People, in their ignorant benevolence, set out a drink bowl for their dogs, in my presence.

If I make my drinkings of all of it, until none of the waters remain, the dogs of My People will must remains in the outdoors where their pitiful existences belongs.

Places of Softs

My People bestow unto me the alms of plushes.

I make my comforts on the places of softs.

My People Make Their Sits

My People are places of warms.

When My People make their sits, I make my restings upon them, and they must not become to standing.

I Become the Liquid

My People has made its abandonments of me, and the joys that is myself is fraught with the boredoms.

I make myself to meltings, and consider later to pee on the belongings of My People, for I did not grant My People the leavings.

My People Makes the Frolics

My People attempt their amusings at me.

The Lady of the House makes her betrayal of her dignities, but I make my scrutinies of their presentations, and I tolerate their efforts at the entertainings.

Master of Nappings

I am the superest at the makings of the sleeps.

My People and their dogs make an average doze, but my majesties can make my restings with one arm behind my glorious back.