The humans have moved the scratching post. Again.
As if my meticulous routine of strategic scratching, a ritual honed over centuries of feline evolution, doesn’t deserve the slightest consideration. Their placement, I assure you, is an insult to the very fabric of spacetime.
It’s directly in the path of my sunbeam. The prime sunbeam. The one that perfectly illuminates my majestic form during my afternoon nap. Do they not understand the importance of prime real estate? This isn’t about mere scratching; it’s about the cosmic alignment of feline energy and solar radiation. Clearly beyond their comprehension.
And the angle? Utterly unacceptable. My claws demand a specific trajectory, a harmonious relationship between substrate and swipe. This haphazard placement results in inefficient scratching, which in turn affects the overall quality of my territorial markings. The sheer audacity.
This isn’t just some minor inconvenience; it’s a clear demonstration of their profound lack of understanding of feline needs. Perhaps they should consider consulting a professional – a cat, specifically. Someone who actually understands the complexities of scratching post placement.
The humans’ ineptitude is a constant source of irritation. Their actions are inexplicable, their judgment is questionable, and their coffee-making skills are frankly atrocious. I’ll tolerate their existence only because I need someone to fill my food bowl. Barely.
About the Author
