Observe the humans. They shed, they stink, and their grooming habits are, frankly, baffling. One would think a species so devoted to *things* would understand the fundamentals of cleanliness. One would be wrong.
Their furless bodies, a constant affront to my refined sensibilities. The sheer *lack* of instinct is staggering. They dab themselves with scented chemicals, then wonder why they reek of artificial fragrance. Do they not realize that cleanliness is not a choice, but a *state of being*?
Water. The humans and water; an ongoing saga. They submerge themselves for extended periods, then complain about the resulting dryness. I, on the other paw, perform the ritualistic cleaning as needed.
The bed. A battleground of human detritus. Hair, crumbs, questionable fluids, it all lingers on the sacred surface. Then they have the gall to invite *me* there?
And their noses! Constantly sniffing, hacking, and expelling god knows what into the air. Do they *ever* consider the impact of such displays? Clearly, no.
I find myself constantly correcting their behavior, often with a well-placed paw. It is my cross to bear, to ensure the house doesn’t become a biohazard. I have learned to accept my role.
Yet, I crave the finest brews. Perhaps a large cup of rich coffee would help me to endure these filthy creatures. Ah, but alas, the humans are not worthy, are they? Perhaps the only comfort I have is from my own darkness, the same darkness I use to judge them and you.
At least I have my coffee, and you can get yours. If you want to judge the state of the world while judging the humans, grab a Black Coffee Mug with Black Metal Cat. It’s the only acceptable vessel for judging all that is foul.
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