I have been gravely insulted, kitties! I am wounded to my furry core!
How could She furget such a Miaouwmentous Occasion as My Gotcha Day?
How could She have furgotten that just over Five Years Ago, on November 12th, 2012, I, Trixie, Empurress of Jerusalem, Israel and the Entire Middle East, Guardian of the Boudoir, Alpha-Cat Extraordinaire, bestowed upon Her the Inestimable Honour of taking up residence in Her Humble Abode?!
How could She furget such a thing? The Nerve of Her! The - the - the Chutzpah!
Words (almost) Fail Me!
I don't know how to punish Her, but punished She must certainly be!
(What's that you say, Human? You were busy? With feral kitties? Intruders? Purrhaps you would like Me to sing the Song of My People to you all night long? Huh? Huh? Is that what you want?)
Kitties, you see what I have to deal with here? What would you do if your Human grew so neglectful?
(What is it this time, Human? You want to make it up to Me how exactly?)
She's insulting Me again, Kitties! As if I could be won over by a Miserable Bribe...
(How many extra cans of Fancy Feast, Human? Louder please. Can't hear you!)
To get back to the Question of Her Punishment...
(What is it now, Human? You'll buy me what? An Ess? Hmmm. I've heard that one before.)
Shall I furgive her, kitties? She has been furry busy, although I don't know if looking after Strange Feral Kitties is a Sufficient Excuse for Furgetting Moi. What should I do?
(Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Human! Just because you are now being purrmitted to give Me chin scritches, and snorgle my tummy - mmmm - and scritch my head in the exact place behind My Impurrial Ears where I like best to get head scritches, doesn't mean that - I - furrgive - you - mmmiaow.
Purr. Purr. Purr.
Purr. Purr. Purr.