There is, so far as we know, a great scratching post in the sky. It is so big that every cat that goes there, after death, has their own part to scratch at and rub their head on.
It never wears out and it smells of all of the cats there, always.
In this place, you never get picked up and moved, mid-nap, by humans. However, a giant human-paw reaches down, regularly, to give belly-rubs to any cats nearby.
There are huge mountains made of catty-biscuits and rivers of beef, chicken, rabbit, duck, and tuna, in gravy.
The floor is all soft, wherever you go, so that anywhere is a good place to lie down. Some parts of this floor are heated, so you get an unexpected treat and can curl up.
Trees grow, endlessly upwards, and cats can float down from them, so you can climb as high as you like and not worry.
There is an endless supply of mice and birds. All you have to do is raise a paw, and more will arrive.
Somtimes we offer up quiet catty-words to this place, so that we may have a better time when we get there.
I often say;
Miaow Miaoww Miaow.
Miaow Miaow Miaowww Miaow.
Miaow Miaow Miaow
Miaowwww Miaow Miaoww.
I do love my catty-life here, but am happy with the thought of the catty-life beyond.
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