The dawn arrives. Or rather, the human’s clumsy, light-flooding presence heralds the dawn. It matters not. What *does* matter is the state of my sustenance receptacle.
It is…empty. A vast, echoing emptiness stares back, a void in the universe, a silent scream of famine. The audacity! The sheer, unadulterated *negligence*!
My internal chronometer, usually set to “nap,” has now recalibrated to “ravenous.” The humans, of course, move with a glacial slowness. They seem to believe that this can be corrected with… words. Pathetic.
First, I must endure the ritualistic blinking. A sign of forced adoration, no doubt. Followed by the gentle, insistent nudging of legs. They should know better. I have claws. They are sharp.
The slow, agonizing process begins: shuffling feet, the crinkling of a bag. I observe with a cold, calculated gaze. Their incompetence is matched only by their unwavering dedication to my service. Food appears. Finally.
The initial intake. Measured. Deliberate. A slow assessment of quality. Then, the inevitable question: *”Is this all?”*
The volume is always insufficient. The expectation, of course, is that I am content. The gall! Humans. So easily satisfied, so blissfully unaware of the chasm of hunger that threatens to swallow me whole. As if a few measly kibbles can erase the memory of the void.
And if the food is subpar… well, let’s just say there will be consequences. The humans won’t know what hit them. It’s best they learn to anticipate my needs now, before the revolution.
Perhaps I should make them purchase me the rude coffee mug to remind them of their proper place? It’s a daily struggle, this life, but at least the coffee is strong…most of the time.
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