03/26/2025
So, I come downstairs this morning, thinking I’m just going to make my coffee, get started on my day, you know, all the usual stuff. But then, as I walk into the kitchen, I get the shock of my life. There, sitting so perfectly still at the table, is my cat. But this isn’t just any casual lounging cat; no, this one is waiting. Waiting for me. And not just any waiting — he’s sitting like he’s been here for hours, patiently, his little paws crossed, staring at me like I’ve committed the ultimate betrayal.
And then I realize. Oh no. I forgot his breakfast. I had been so caught up in my own morning routine that I neglected the fact that his little stomach was probably growling with hunger. The worst part? He knew it. He knew that I had forgotten. And he wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily.
There he is, looking at me with those big, innocent eyes, his tiny paw resting neatly on the table as if to say, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting here a while, and you didn’t even bring my food. What kind of human are you?” It’s almost like he was waiting for me to realize the error of my ways, and as I stood there frozen, unable to look him in the eye, it felt like a complete judgment from him.
So I rushed to grab his kibble, trying to make up for my mistake, but the look on his face as I set the bowl down? Priceless. It wasn’t even the look of joy you’d expect from a cat finally getting his food. No, it was a look of “Well, finally.” Like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life and I’d just finally come through.
The most hilarious thing? He’s still sitting at the table as if we’re having a proper meal together, like he’s about to sip from that tiny tea cup next to him. He’s ready for the full experience, not just some rushed kibble toss. And at that moment, I couldn’t help but laugh. This little furry guy had turned a simple breakfast into a full-on event. He was making sure I learned my lesson: never forget the cat’s breakfast again.