When we moved here several years ago one of the first things I did was to go down to the end of the paddock and inspect the house and buildings across the road. There are many buildings containing lots of machinery and mountains of potatoes. The house is a pleasant abode of some century and a half , with gardens and shrubs and the usual surroundings of a human dwelling. And then I noticed a miniscule fluttering of a curtain in a window. There was a glint of light flashing off a glass surface and then the curtain stopped moving.
This puzzled me for a long while and I spent days staring at that window in a fixed manner. Then one day a face revealed itself. It was very pale and the top was surmounted by what appeared to be bluish cotton wool. The eyes were another shade of blue, very bright, and the glint I had seen was from her enormous spectacles, which made her eyes seem even larger. It was my first full glimpse of Granny. We spent the following years perfecting our staring game. In fact, the humans would look out the window of their houses on either side of the road and say "Oh no, Granny and Sheaffer are staring again!" We were unstoppable.
Until this past January, when Granny was taken away to something called a "Home". She simply disappeared out of my life. It seems she had grown too frail to comfortably stay across the road and so she had moved. The curtains don't flutter anymore even though I check every day just to be sure.
Today I received wonderful news. I have been invited to the "Home" to have tea with Granny and her friends! I can't wait. I know I will bond immediately with this herd of elderly blue-haired humans. They're quiet, don't make sudden movements and are happy to simply sit and stare for long periods of time. I have found my soulmates.
As soon as the Grannies can be assembled on the lawn of the "Home", I will be transported there in my metal box on wheels (with a shovel and broom in case things get too exciting). Finally, I'm getting out into the world and meeting the right sort of people. I'm told they often don't eat all their lunch and I will be happy to help the dining room staff deal with the excess, although I've already received a stern lecture about begging. I never BEG, I simply ask for the tiniest morsels when my blood sugar falls - strictly medical. Anyway, I will make detailed observations and report back on my mission.