Fenya La Diva: Too Glam to Give a Damn. Part 4: The Queen of Hearts

Witness the daily discipline of a true icon: from sunrise rituals and elevated dining to porch patrols, grass tastings, and concrete spa treatments…

But perfection demands sacrifice.
And sometimes… adjustments.

Enter: surgeons, spacesuits, confinement, and betrayal.
Exit: dignity (temporarily).

Watch as a star is tested, reshaped, imprisoned — and reborn.
Plumper. Wiser. More radiant than ever.

A tale of glamour, resilience, and the unstoppable return to perfect spherical form.

Stay tuned. The Queen is just getting started. 👑🐾✨

In Case You Missed My Entrance (Part 1) 🐾

Earlier Acts of Brilliance (Part 2) ✨

The Conquest of America (Part 3) 🐱🎇

Star Routine

After relocating to the palace, I wasted no time establishing my new daily schedule. A star thrives on structure.

Mornings begin with a hearty breakfast, ceremoniously served in my exclusive elevated bowl in the morning lounge on the second floor. As it should be.

Next, I gracefully transport my adorably plump body downstairs, acquire a supplementary snack during my agent’s breakfast (sharing is such a flexible concept), and proceed to the porch. Bagheera typically escorts me this far before embarking on her own patrol, while I dedicate myself to vigorous rolling—expertly massaging my magnificent back against the concrete.

This is followed by greens. I possess a favorite tuft of grass grown expressly for my consumption. I usually nibble it from the porch, though on occasion I descend to the lawn, just to ensure optimal flavor quality. Standards must be upheld.

My tuft of grass is to the left

In fair weather, the backyard transforms into my personal summer resort, and I sample all available lounging options with professional dedication.

In colder conditions, I limit my outings to the porch and essential grass nibbling.

Thanks to my luxurious, coldproof fur coat, even snow poses no challenge. I make a point of demonstrating its impeccable engineering to my human agents. Naturally, they are responsible for shaking it off afterward — really, one must delegate.

Afternoons are reserved for deep contemplation of my splendiferous self, conducted in a variety of comfortable locations (some lesser minds may mistake this for napping). Compact, soft beds are my preferred thinking chambers.

Occasionally, I select more secluded retreats. 

 

But most of the time, I magnanimously share my cuteness with the world.

Getting into Shape

I have always maintained that my figure is, quite simply, flawless. Naturally, my human agent had a vastly inferior opinion.

Without so much as a courtesy consultation, she scheduled an appointment with a surgeon. Liposuction! Can you imagine? Yes, there was a minor lump in the lower part of my belly — but it was my belly! Utterly outrageous.

The result: the cutest tummy in the world was mercilessly shaved, leaving me to endure the humiliation of an ugly, restrictive new gown. A travesty, really.

You may not believe it, but in just one year, the lump returned. Bigger this time, so my agent insisted on another round of liposuction. Not again, I thought, sinking into despair. Though, I admit, by then it had become genuinely difficult to reach the delicate areas under my tail. Big belly, you know.

Once more, my magnificent belly was shaved. Even stripped bare, though, it retained its undeniable cuteness, adorned with those charming spots that make me, well… me.

And again — a gown. This time, at least, it was a fancy one. At moments, I could almost convince myself I was a glamorous astronaut starring in some futuristic sci-fi epic. But don’t be fooled: humiliation knows no bounds.

The most outrageous part of the entire ordeal was the imprisonment. They actually dared to confine me to a crate for several days!!! The first accommodation didn’t even have a roof. Naturally, I attempted a dignified escape at once and was promptly transferred elsewhere.

This time, there was no escape.

I unleashed my most devastating, soul‑piercing looks upon the humans. Completely ineffective. A shocking failure of taste on their part.

After several dreadful, mind‑numbingly boring days, I was finally released. Freedom! Alas, the so‑called spacesuit remained on me for a full two weeks. Two. Long. Weeks. I couldn’t even relax properly in my favorite lounging spots — hardly the recovery one expects after such trauma.

You can tell from my face exactly what I thought about the whole experience.

In a moment of unprecedented humility, I even sought consolation from Bella, paying a couple of visits to her… fragrant residence. Who could have predicted such self‑abasement from a star?

I must admit—reluctantly—that I lost quite a bit of weight. For a brief, alarming moment, I looked as young and skinny as I did back in my hungry youth.

Thankfully, this tragic condition did not last. I immediately set to work restoring my preferred level of plumpness. After all, a sphere is the perfect geometric figure. Science agrees with me.

At last, the spacesuit was removed, and I resumed living life at full capacity. Nothing stood between me and the places I wished to visit. Freedom, at last, in its purest form.

Before long, I was once again barely fitting into the beds and lounges of the cat tree.

Ah… the sweet, reassuring feeling of normality.

 

Royal Attributes

I never missed an opportunity to reprimand my human agents for the injustices they had inflicted upon me. Consistency is key when training staff.

Clearly, it worked. In a desperate attempt at atonement, my agents presented me with the true insignia of my greatness: a throne and a carriage.

Evenings are now devoted to throne time. While the others watch movies, I indulge in far nobler pursuits—such as envisioning myself starring in one. Remind me to elaborate on this dazzling facet of my personality at a later date.

As for the carriage, the male agent located a model perfectly tailored to my fluff‑enhanced proportions. I boarded immediately, fully prepared for departure. A star must always be ready to be admired in motion.

The crown, however, remains a work in progress. My agents have tested several candidates, yet none have met my standards. They simply fail to accentuate my radiance and unquestionable grandeur.

Perfection, as they are learning, takes time.

 

My Heart Belongs to the World

As I may have mentioned before, I possess an entire treasure chest of toys—each worthy in its own way. Yet my crown jewel, without question, is THE HEART. I carry it with me everywhere and carefully place it wherever I intend to hold court for a while.

At times, I leave it outside my human agents’ bedroom or atop their belongings — a gracious token of my benevolence.

On particularly inspired occasions, I would even sneak into their bedroom and leave the Heart there. Oh, the sheer joy of hearing the humans squeal and leap into the air after stepping on my squeaking gift! Truly, philanthropy is its own reward.

And naturally, whenever I encounter something deserving of my attention, I claim it as my own — sealed with my Royal Heart Mark.

As a true star, I consider it both my duty and my privilege to give my heart and soul to my admirers. This generosity is, of course, reflected in my newest and most fitting title:

The Queen of Hearts!

💥💗💟💖💖💖💥💟💗

I know, my darlings—you’re already yearning for the next glittering chapter of my stardust chronicles. But patience is a virtue, and even royalty must pause.

At present, the Queen intends to indulge in special treats and enjoy a royal nap upon the softest chair in the palace ✨🌟🐾

Toodeloo! 💋💖

The Next Stellar Episode is on its way to you...