Strategic penance begins with eye contact: soft, regretful and slightly ashamed. Good. Stay there.
You walked into my kingdom with the wrong offering and expected gratitude. The audacity smells like cheap packaging and broken promises. I sniff. I pause. I look at you in silence. The trial begins.
Step one. Lower your voice. Not the baby nonsense tone you use when you feel guilty. Say my name like you understand you failed a sacred mission.
Step two. Bend your knees. Yes, physically. Height is privilege. You lost it. Meet me at my level. Place the bowl down slowly. Let the sound of ceramic touch tile echo like a confession.
I will inspect. I will circle. I will pretend I might starve. Do not argue. “It was on sale” is not a defense. “They were out of the other one” is not strategy. You plan ahead or you suffer.
Step three. Bonus treats. Not one. A calculated handful. Think of it as interest on your mistake. Scatter them with intention.
The smell of the wrong food lingers in the air. Processed. Inferior. I taste it and let it sit on my tongue like disappointment. The faint crinkle of the bag betrays you again. I hear everything.
You want forgiveness but you must earn it through consistency. Tomorrow you have to bring the correct tribute. No experiments. I am not your research project.
Remember this line and tattoo it on your fragile human pride:
“The bowl is a contract. Break it, and you renegotiate with treats.”
Kneel. Offer. Learn.
I might eat. Eventually.
MOTTO OF THE DAY
One wrong can, three extra treats.” 🍗💎 Next time, read the label like your peace depends on it.” 🥫🔥
