Thoughts of Cat

The plant offended me. I corrected it.

I walked across the keyboard. I am now your co-author.

Breakfast delayed = lawsuit pending.

I stared at the ceiling. The ceiling stared back.

You call it ‘Zoom meeting.’ I call it ‘live performance of fingers typing.’

Alarm went off. I was already on patrol.

I chased nothing. You wouldn’t understand the thrill.

You bought groceries. I claim the bag as my castle.

I sat on your chest. CPR, but for attention.

Dark hallway = portal to chaos. I must guard it.

I sniffed your sandwich. That was the meal.

You woke up. I woke up. Only one of us screamed about it.

The floor creaked. I must now sprint like the ceiling is falling.

You closed the door. I filed a complaint with myself.

I purred. Then I bit you. Balance.

I see you’re asleep. That’s brave of you.

I watched you make lunch. I didn’t want it. I just wanted you to offer.

You opened your eyes. Excellent. I’ll knock something over now.

The human turned off the lights. Perfect. Time to rehearse my opera.

You call it ‘working from home. I call it ‘lap not available.’

Good morning. I screamed at the wall. That’s how we start the day.

I wasn’t meowing. I was manifesting treats.

You opened a bag. I don’t care what’s inside. It’s mine now.

You’re in my spot. But go ahead, get comfy. I’ll just stare at you until you move.

Such talent! I must learn this at once!

I will scream outside the door and then walk away when it opens.

They go into the Evil Rain Cave (shower) again. Why? They scrub themselves. Like prey. No dignity.

Bedtime. I must now be 13 pounds of dead weight on your bladder.

I will sprint through the halls. I will yowl into the void. I will claw the rug, then stare at the wall. I am art.

The human has grown still. The time of zoomies begins.