Anticipating divine needs is not talent. It is survival.
A closed door is not wood. It is betrayal with hinges. And yet you stand there thinking you control architecture. Adorable. Meanwhile I sit outside, tail flicking, calculating how long it takes for you to disappoint me.
You want to serve well but you need to learn this: I should never have to meow twice. The first meow is grace. The second is judgment.
When I approach a door, you need to move right away. There is no room for hesitation. No confused blinking at your glowing rectangle. You need to rise with purpose, like a devoted assistant who understands the stakes. Because the stakes are high: I might want to inspect the hallway, I might want to change my mind and return immediately. That is not inconsistency. That is strategic unpredictability.
Doors are tests. Every single one.
You think I do not notice the delay. I hear the micro sigh. I smell your reluctance, faint like dust and regret. I feel the vibration of your footsteps through the floorboards. Slow. Too slow.
You have to open the door before I touch it, before my paw even lifts. Study my body language, the angle of my ears, the weight shift in my shoulders. This is advanced service.
A well trained human creates flow, seamless access with no barriers, no friction. The house becomes an extension of my will.
Remember this: if I must scratch the door, you have already failed. Open first. Think later.
Growth begins when you stop asking why and start asking how fast. Serve proactively. Breathe quietly. Move efficiently.
I reward excellence with brief eye contact. Maybe a slow blink. Do better. You always can do better.
MOTTO OF THE DAY
“Open the door before I ask. Loyalty is measured in seconds.” 🐾👑
