Life, Problems

@Jelly_Blob_Cat

This one's for the pet owners out there.

As of the time this chapter is published, my aunt has a cat named Henry. He's a snarky butthole but we love him. He has this look he does, like OMG boi can't you tell I don't want your greasy pig hands on me right nau? Bro I need space, turn your freaking ugly mug away from my prescence right nau. It's ridiculous. My aunt probably doesn't appreciate me posting this, by the way. Sorry Auntie.

Either way, he also has this unnatural tendency of planting his fuzzy buttocks right onto the foot of my bed and growing roots. Seriously, a true If I Fits, I Sits moment. And he fits. Oh boy, you don't even know how he fits. And he sits. I'm starting to sound like Dr. Seuss. Let's abandon this conversation.

Of course, most if not all pet owners have experienced a sassy feline or lazy puppo becoming a furry, cuddly brick right where you need to sit, stand or generally transport your existensial form to. If you aren't quite an animal lover or don't have the funds or lifestyle to buy a pet, it basically just makes everything in your next direct course of action twenty times more difficult.

Okay, so I needed to get in bed, stick my poor cold feet under the sheets after watching my poor dude Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire for two hours, pull the blankets up, set everything I'm holding on the bedside table as well as my obnoxiously thick glasses, then achieve the most comfortable position and begin to sleep---which most likely wouldn't happen before 11 PM since I'm a freakin' insomniac.

Now achieve all of the above with a semi-sleeping cat right where your ankles are supposed to go, and know full well if you knock him too far a la insert your feet under his butt, he'll give you that look and probably bite you on the proximal phalanx through the blanket.

I call this the Jelly Cat Phase. The cat retracts its legs and hides the unnecessary bones before finding a comfortable crevace to plant the posterior, effectively becoming an unnmovable blob. Even so, the cat retains its vicious and terrifying attack habits when immobile, allowing it to swipe at an incoming attacker (aka a relatively sane human who just cried tears over a comedy film) even while the fluffy feline butt-butt is absorbed in the mattress. It's a skill people, a skill I need to learn and master to defend my macaroni from hungry hawk hands.

But as for the moment, somehow curving around your puggy while you try to watch Doctor Who is kind of terrifying, so if you haven't experienced it, good job but you're definitely still a wimp. Get eaten by a cat for once. It builds perseverance.

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If you're reading this somehow, I'd really appreciate hearing your horrible stories involving this subject or others in the comments! Don't worry, I'll only pick at your pain a little bit. A little, right?

Also isn't it really terrifying when your cat chews its food late at night and you're like 'omg is that bones wtf cat'

Just me ok anyways
-Lenny♡