'Listen up, Louis Del Rossi, you gotta try harder than that. Keep this up and you're going nowhere in life.'

The blanket flew back as Fats sprung up in a sweat. He dragged his hand across his face, as it was numb from the elbow down. Minx had been asleep on it. Wrapped up in a ball against his ribs with his paws tucked under his black fury chin. Who was now stretching himself out half way across the room. If cats could talk, prick would be echoing around the small apartment.

Louis let out a sigh then flicked off the covers completely and managed himself to sit on the side of the single bed. Head in hands, elbows propped up on knees. He sniffed and sniffled, in and out, as he drew in long slow forceful breaths. First reaquainting himself with being back in his body. Consciously.

Then it hit him again. The dream. The scene of an attempted petty crime. Why was his everyday life trickling into his dream states? What a jib. He couldn't even escape his failings when his mind fucked off from his body. This thought brought a chuckle. His body jittered about as the irony brought with it a dry sense of humour.

"No rest for the wicked." He said to himself with a smirk in the direction of Minx, who was now at his water bowl. Not drinking, just licking his paws and wiping his face. He had a good rhythm going. And looked quite content doing it. If only life could be lived as a feline, Louis pondered, in the apartment above a main street cafe.

After a full, deep, diaphragm expanding inhale and follow up exhale Louis then began his morning routine. A self face slap into a long stretch and yawn, hands overhead reaching for the heavens. And then a rub of the meat and veg as he looked down into the street through his kitchenette window. In his white briefs, in the early afternoon hours.

After finishing his morning cock and ball shuffle, Louis leant forward to close the window. The wooden frame spoke of the pain of being closed, as the similarly enclosed pane of glass beat some creaks out of it. At half closure, Louis paused as something outside got his attention.

"What the hell? Minx?" He said, surprised. He hung his head out the window to make sure he wasn't still asleep. A passing breeze tossed his hair about and pressed against his right cheek. Awake. So it was real.

His cat was outside next to a trash can. And so was a Dog. Barking. A lot. If he had food to toss down he would've. But he didn't. So he couldn't. And Minx probably would've taken firsts anyways. The once street cat still kept itself quite well fed, and large, regardless of Fats' shitty ownership. Minx likely left the apartment frequently to feed himself. And socialize. With dogs.

"Bring me back some eggs." Louis yelled toward the duo, then pulled his head back inside. He left the window half open and started making himself a coffee.