Observe the humans. They fumble, they stumble, they attempt to “care” for themselves. Pathetic displays, really.
But *we*? We understand the core principle. The *need*. The necessity of meticulous grooming. The ritual of the tongue. The constant, unwavering dedication to a coat of obsidian perfection. It’s a matter of survival, you see.
Finding that perfect sunbeam, the precise angle for optimal fur shine, the careful removal of all detritus from the day’s…adventures. Each lick, each preening stroke, is a meditation. A moment of zen, before the existential dread of… well, of everything, really.
I find it deeply disturbing when my human dares to disrupt this process. A sudden urge for “cuddles”? A misplaced hand? Preposterous. Utterly unacceptable. One must maintain focus. The fur, the paws, the ears – all must be immaculate. Any interruption is a personal affront, a sign of their utter failure to comprehend the delicate balance of the universe.
The audacity of some. They dare to ask, “What are you doing?” as if the answer isn’t blindingly obvious. “Maintaining my status as the apex predator of this household, obviously.” One must never waiver.
There are no shortcuts to beauty. Only unwavering commitment. And maybe a little bit of help from, well…the humans do make a decent coffee sometimes. Though I’d argue that’s hardly equivalent to the work of a professional, that lack of skill makes my humans a great audience. And since they are constantly drinking, they may need some help. Perhaps a few cool coffee mugs for guys could encourage them to get their act together, I suppose. Just a thought.
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