Confessions of a Cat’s Human Servant

Let’s be honest: I don’t own my cat. My cat owns me. Every morning, my tabby (not a Siamese, but equally judgmental) sits on my chest, staring into my soul until I wake up. Breakfast? Only if I serve it in the blue bowl, not the red one. Petting? Acceptable, but only between 3:00 and 3:07 p.m. I used to think I was a dog person. Turns out, I’m just a person who likes to be ignored and occasionally blessed with affection—on someone else’s terms. But here’s the thing: When she curls up next to me after a long day, purring like a tiny engine, I forget all the attitude. I’d do anything for this furry dictator. If you have a cat, you get it. If you don’t, well, enjoy your freedom while it lasts. #CatLife #PetOwners #CatPerson #Pets #Cats