I hate anything being left on my cushion. I know Millie gets up there when I’m not around. It’s MY cushion, I tell her, so get off, and please don’t leave your horrible toys on it either! I hate that squirrel. Sometimes Millie listens to me.
That’s better. MY cushion, just for ME.
(Rachel: I’m coming for that dreadful hairy cushion in a moment, with a sticky roller, Catkin. Be warned.)