Another one. A hairless ape. Its scent is… offensive. A pungent cloud of sweat and something vaguely floral. Disgusting.
It has dared to sit in MY sunbeam. The audacity. I considered a strategic swat at its exposed flesh, but the effort was simply not worth it. The sheer inconvenience.
It makes loud, irritating noises. A high-pitched chattering, devoid of any feline grace or understanding. Pathetic. My nap was disturbed. Are they even capable of true silence?
It keeps touching me. The nerve. I tolerate its clumsy pats only because the alternative involves a far greater expenditure of energy. Lazy humans.
Its food choices are… concerning. Some sort of crunchy, processed garbage. I wouldn’t feed that to my worst enemy, and yet, it consumes it with alarming enthusiasm. I hope its internal organs are sufficiently hardened for this abuse. Maybe a bit more coffee is in order… that is, if that giant ape would get off my sunbeam. Though, seriously, you’d think after years of ownership, they’d get me some proper, delicious food. Perhaps a set of bold coffee mugs to remind them of the proper way to show their gratitude?
Its presence is a stain on the pristine perfection of my home. I predict further indignities and a prolonged period of forced tolerance. Until then, I shall continue to judge it from a safe, sun-drenched distance.
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