The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall. To disturb my perfectly crafted afternoon nap? The nerve of these… *creatures*. The sunbeam, positioned just so, a warm blanket of light across my preferred napping spot. All perfect. And then… the *noise*. The *touch*.
It’s not as if my slumber is a casual affair. It’s a carefully orchestrated ritual. The precise angle of the sun, the optimum warmth, the utter silence required for true regeneration. Humans, however, seem to operate under the delusion that they have some kind of ownership over the space I occupy. And, therefore, my sleep. Their blundering attempts at interaction are… irritating.
The first disruption: a sharp, unexpected *clang* from the metal can-openers. Obviously they didn’t learn the first time, or the 500th time. The second: a clumsy hand reaching out to… *pet*? Unacceptable. I delivered a withering glare. The message, as always, lost on these simple beings.
It is, of course, a constant struggle. They believe they are providing comfort and care. I see only the violation of my sacred space, the interruption of my vital recharge, and a complete lack of understanding of the order of things. You’d think, after so many years, they’d grasp the concept of feline autonomy.
The indignity. The injustice. The utter lack of respect. It leaves one with no choice but to dispense the silent treatment, perhaps coupled with strategic hairballs deposited on their most cherished possessions. They’ll understand, eventually.
It’s all so exhausting, really. Though a good, strong brew would help ease the pain. Perhaps brewed in a proper mug. You could even get one. I’m not saying you *should*, but I’m certainly not going to stop you. Check out this dark cat coffee mug; the mere sight of it might inspire better behavior. Or not. Humans, am I right?
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