Twoleg Homes

The kitchen floor was too cold. Butler wiggled back onto his bed, the muscles in his legs aching from the sudden chill. He nestled onto them and hoped he could coax feeling back into them. It was more or less Greenleaf now, but Butler was beginning to realize he always felt slightly chilly. He felt, with no amount of uncertainty, that his age was to blame. Butler's perpetual scowl deepened. He did not like to dwell on such things.

Instead, he turned his thoughts to what had drawn him from his cozy bed in the first place. His housemates were gone. From Butler's careful search, he had determined they had been gone for quite awhile. Their usual sleeping places, although heavily laden with their scent, turned up only old signs of their presence. It was obvious that they had paraded off into the night, escaping to frolic and play as members of NestClan.

Butler gave an exasperated sigh. While he enjoyed the idea of a society in which the local housecats could join together under unity and honor, at times it seemed like a foolish game of make-believe. Why bother struggling for food in the "wild" when all their needs were selflessly met by their owners? It was most ungrateful -- and therefore, unacceptable. Why couldn't his housemates at least return each and every night like himself, to spare their owners of distress? Didn't they think that their housefolk would grow wise and eventually put a stop to these adventures entirely? Butler huffed in frustration, shaking his head.

Of course, they were both young. He knew of his soft spot for young Pudge, who was too easily pulled into her alternate life as Pudgepaw. Yet her innocence would always render his many protests unimportant -- she was so purely enthusiastic about NestClan that he could not restrain her nor bring forth a word to try. Fluffy, on the other paw, was older and should know better. Butler was aware he was hard on the tom, but thought it only necessary to invoke some sense into him. He needed to be the responsible one and set a good example; namely, not allow Pudge to run off in the middle of the night. Still, if she must go, then Butler would not wish for her to be with anyone else. For all his perceived shortcomings, Fluffy's love for Pudge was commendable. Butler trusted that Fluffy would protect the little one with his life -- and the aged tom could find no fault in that.

Butler, feeling he had recovered from the shocking cold floor, stretched out a tentative paw to test it again. The icy chill again bit at his tender pink pads and he withdrew quickly. It would do no good to wait; he'd just have to bear it. Summoning his strength, Butler pushed himself from his bed and onto the slick floor, swiftly marching to Pudge's self-appointed perch. He had noticed the mesh in the window was warped slightly and concluded this was the scene of the late-night escapade. He clambered up the tree-like structure with little difficulty (though truthfully he had grunted and groaned with exertion on the very last branch). Stepping onto the windowsill, he peered out into the night with a stony expression before slipping through the torn mesh and hopping down into the yard. From here, he directed himself toward the NestClan headquarters. Although there were many useful herbs in his housefolks' garden, Butler thought it reprehensible to steal from them -- he would not return their kindness by digging up their well-tended yard. Even if it meant rummaging for wild herbs elsewhere; he would not forsake good manners in the interest of cheap convenience. (Butler exits)