I am a reasonable, rational, deeply intellectual creature. And for approximately six hours last Sunday, I watched my human cosplay as a corpse while I sat there, hungry, increasingly feral, and deeply disrespected. This is my official investigation into why an automatic cat feeder would have prevented all of it. She disagreed. She was wrong.
But let me walk you through my investigation.
Phase one. Concern. I pressed my entire face against her nose to confirm she was still breathing. Warm air. Alive. Good. Moving on.
Phase two. Suspicion. Because here is what I know: healthy humans wake up. They shuffle to the kitchen. They open the good can. They serve the empress. None of this was happening, and I started to take it personally.
Phase three. Hunger. Pure, unhinged, territorial hunger.
So I escalated the way any reasonable ruler would. I stepped on her face. Light, tactical, professional. Nothing. I did chest zoomies at full velocity, three laps back to back. She pulled the blanket tighter. I sat directly on her throat and performed my most devastating "I have not eaten in forty years and I am fading fast" monologue. Oscar-level material. She moved exactly zero percent.
Fine.
I activated Level 100 Emergency Protocol. I knocked her water glass off the nightstand.
She sat up in 0.3 seconds. Eyes open. Scanning the room. Fully conscious. Loud about it.
I sat at the edge of the bed and studied her. And I thought: so that is how this works, huh?
The Solution She Should Have Implemented Already
She does not run on food. Not on love. Not on the spiritual suffering of her beloved overlord. She runs on the sound of things falling off surfaces. I have logged this in the domination files under "fatal weaknesses."
In the meantime — because I am nothing if not pragmatic — I have identified the real solution: an automatic cat feeder. One that dispenses food at the exact time I have decided breakfast should happen. No human involvement required. No suffering. No emergency protocols. No water glasses sacrificed on the altar of her sleep schedule.
The better ones let you schedule multiple meals, control portions, and — most importantly — operate completely without her. She called this "unnecessary." I called her bluff by knocking something else over. We have since reached an agreement.
Or else... I will knock something every morning until she understands that her schedule is my schedule, her sleep belongs to me, and her water glass is simply collateral damage in a much bigger operation.
You are welcome for the early start, sweetheart.
Stay toxic 🐾🖤😼😈👑
