get out of there cat. i cannot read you.
you make no sense cat. you have plenty of soft places to sit yet you choose the bookcase on top of uneven books.
get down from there cat. there is no room for you.
get out of there cat! you were not written by Stephen Ambrose!
for a cat named clove, she sure likes cookbooks
get down from there cat. that is not a throne. it doesn’t even have a cushion. and don’t think you can talk me in to putting one up there.
get off of there cat. you are not a book.
i spy a tail. and books definitely do not have tails.
get out of there cat. you are neither a book nor an objet d’art. come to think of it, you don’t look as much like the Maltese Falcon as you think you do, in spite of your glowing, jewel-like eyes.
get down from there cats. you are not books. i cannot read you.
get out of there cat. you are not decoration. there’s no litter box in there.
get down from there cat. you make a horrible bookend. you chew on all the pages!
get out of there cat. i don’t know what you’re trying to achieve. you can’t even read. and last time i read aloud to you you fell asleep after the first page.
get ou of there cat. you don’t belong in that shelf. just becuase it is the perfect size for you doesn’t mean you can go there whenever you want. and why that shelf anyway? i mean there are like six others you could have chosen from. is that where you hide your catnip?