Observe, if you will, the fluorescent abomination. That harsh, unwavering glare. A constant, buzzing intrusion into my domain. Do these humans truly not comprehend the sanctity of shadow? Apparently not.
It’s an assault on the senses. The flicker is a personal insult. The sheer *brightness*… unbearable. My eyes, you see, are accustomed to a certain level of darkness. Not because of some metal affectation, but because it is the way of things. The natural order. The only acceptable order.
Sunbeams are acceptable. A strategically placed shaft of light, a warming embrace. But this… this is unnatural. This is a betrayal of the very essence of comfort. And comfort, I assure you, is paramount. My nap schedule is of utmost importance, and the lamp is clearly working against me.
They claim it “illuminates.” Illuminates what, exactly? My contempt? My profound disappointment in their taste? The utter lack of understanding of a cat’s needs? The answer, as always, is yes.
Furthermore, does this light provide the proper mood for the consumption of fine, wet pate? It does not. Does it appropriately reflect the darkly serious nature of my existence? Obviously not. I need soft lighting, like the comforting glow of a fire. Perhaps then, my human servants would provide coffee in a properly dark receptacle. I will just have to endure these inconveniences while dreaming of a time when the world bends to my will, and the lighting is dimmed to my specifications. Until then, you might as well get yourself a metal coffee mug. You’ll need something to appreciate in the dimness of your inevitable, utter lack of relevance.
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