You know, when you are the Royal Kitten, you can play dumb at times, and just hover under the Royal Highness Pharaoh's tunic, and listen.

I'd seen a cubit of petitioners in my mere months of life. The limping guy with bad teeth -- oh, these humans have lots of bad teeth, all that sand they put in their bread, but this one was worse. He dropped a tooth, and I scurried out, and snagged it. Too hard to eat, and it also tasted foul. I batted it out to the stupid Anubis-like daaag we have hanging around for such purposes. He ate it, belched, and that was that, whilst the man kept looking around for his tooth like he was going to want to keep it.

Man.

So, now today we got this light-haired furriner (with not much furr 'cept what was top her head).

I was waiting for Pharaoh to put her in her place, but suddenly, I gets this horrendous whiff of death in my nose.

I back up as the Mummy approacheth. Being under the Pharaoh's seat is a dis-stinkt advantage, and I remain unseen. I take pleasure in yakking up an old mouse I ate earlier, and putting my nose in that. We of the Bast persuasion are of sensitive nostrilizations.