Not that I'm opposed to becoming a millionaire. If it worked for Jed Clampett, then why not this feline roving reporter? Not much "bubblin' crude" around my neighborhood, though, so I suppose I'll have to make my millions by being extremely witty and massively cute. Cuteness comes naturally to us felines; wit is a tougher nut, but only because people have so much trouble interpreting our verbalizations.
If you belong to the same generation as Scowl-Face and the Lady With the Red Hair, you'll have fond memories of strawberry picking along railroad tracks and in patches scattered around the countryside. It was a rite of passage for many human kids. We felines who favor strawberries would give them a chew while they're still attached to the vine or bush or whatever they're growing upon. For some reason, people don't approve of that practice, but I can't see why. Just adds some sweetness, I'd venture.