I spent all day on top of the dresser in the kitchen. It has a top wooden border that turns up so it provides a sheltered place for a kitty, high up in the air. Probably designed in the long ago nineteenth century for a farm kitchen where the kitty could be safe high up, away from the busy humans and quarrelsome dogs.
Lynettea can't see me from the floor, but if she calls out, 'where are you, Sasha?' I might let her see my ears sticking up like two small furry triangles above the border of the dresser.
Now I have been for my walkies: essential to give Lynettea her exercise and am waiting to see what food I am about to receive. I feel a little nervous after all the changes.