Sunbeam Lands on Hospital Square; Nap Ward Claimed

I was in the middle of a rather important nap in my favorite armchair when the sound began—a dreadful ripping of plastic, followed by a heavy *thwump* that shook the floorboards. I opened one eye, my tail giving a single, irritated twitch. The human was on their knees, wrestling with a large, rolled-up object. With a final heave, it unfurled across the living room, a garish explosion of color and lines. My nap was officially ruined. I descended from my perch with the silent, deliberate grace of an offended aristocrat to inspect this new intruder. It smelled of the factory and vague chemicals. A city? For ants? How utterly banal. With cautious steps, I placed a single white paw onto the surface. To its credit, it did not slide. The non-slip backing held firm against the wood floors, a feature I noted with a flicker of approval. The texture was a short, uninteresting pile, not luxurious enough for a proper biscuit-making session, but not offensive either. I began a patrol, my paws following the stark white lines of a painted road. I stalked past a ridiculous-looking fire station, gave a disdainful sniff to the printed duck pond, and paused at a roundabout, contemplating the sheer pointlessness of it all. This was a map of boredom, a blueprint for tiny plastic vehicles with no souls. Just as I was about to dismiss it entirely and retreat to the superior comfort of the sofa, a sunbeam—that glorious, golden herald of true happiness—crept through the window. It blazed across the room and landed, with perfect, geometric precision, right on the square marked "Hospital." The warmth radiated from the brightly colored patch, a perfect invitation. The rug's true purpose was suddenly, brilliantly clear. This wasn't a playmat for the child; it was a strategically designed sun-worshipping platform for me. I circled the sun-drenched square twice, my purr beginning to rumble in my chest. The little roads and quaint buildings were irrelevant nonsense, a distraction for the simple-minded. But as a large, stable, and surprisingly comfortable warmth-trapper? It was a stroke of genius. I settled down, my gray fur soaking in the heat, and closed my eyes. The city was mine now. The human could have the roads, but the hospital was my new napping ward. It was… acceptable.