The Morning Itinerary of Your Imaginary Quarantine Cat
Are you considering adopting an imaginary cat to give you attention and love during this challenging pandemic situation? Maybe you should reconsider. People don’t realize that imaginary cats can be very demanding, sometimes even more demanding than normal cats. Not convinced? Here’s a glimpse into the morning schedule of your imaginary quarantine cat:
2:00am —Can’t get comfortable. Meow. There’s only one place I want to be. Sitting on your chest and pushing my chonky butt into your face so you can’t breath through my imaginary fur. Let’s do it!
2:05am — Finally comfortable. Mrow.
3:00am —Scratchy scratchy. Stop struggling, human! An hour is too long to resist being smothered into imaginary death. Submit! Submit! Meow.
4:00am — Since we’re both up, maybe you could stagger into the kitchen and open a can of tuna. Real or imaginary, doesn’t matter. Just drop it on the floor and I’ll lick some of it, before smearing the rest into the carpet with my imaginary paws. Mrow. Maybe you should have bought an imaginary bowl for my food. I like the way you stagger.
4:30am — More tuna, please. There’s a corner of the carpet I haven’t coated yet.
4:35am —Sometimes when you stagger I like to weave between your legs. You can’t tell your friends that’s why you fell, because then they’ll know your imaginary cat isn’t as well behaved as theirs.
4:45am —Need to kill something. MEOW!
5:50am —Scratch at the door until you forget I’m an inside cat. All that sleep deprivation from earlier is sure to help.
6:00am — Liaison with the imaginary cat from next door, then murder three imaginary birds and a rat. Scratch at the door until you let me back in, then deposit the rat in your tangled sheets. Mrow. It smells nice. I need to remember to do this again tomorrow and also every day for forever.
6:20am — Scratchy scratchy!
6:35am — I require higher quality imaginary cat food. Don’t complain about having to go to the imaginary store during a pandemic. That isn’t my problem. You know what is my problem? Finding more shoes to puke inside now that this pair is full. Mrow.
6:55am — Listen to you talk about your problems. You can’t go outside. Wah wah wah. You miss your friends. Wah wah wah. You’ve started seeing clown ghosts standing in the corner while you’re trying to sleep. Wah Wah Wah. You’re worried about the state of the world. Meow meow bleh. You should be more worried about the state of your couch once I’m done sharpening my claws on it.
7:00am — Angry meowing while you take your shower.
7:05am — Resist cuddles. I know you adopted me because you were scared of quarantining alone, but that doesn’t mean I agreed to be your emotional support animal. I have complicated emotions of my own to deal with and they involve not being able to knock things over at the exact moment I want to because some idiot is trying to cuddle me.
7:15am — Photobomb your morning Zoom call. Purr adorably when all your imaginary friends gasp over how cute I am. Meow, meow! Don’t I know it! Smear my butt on the webcam.
7:30am — Fantasize about eating your face when you die. Mrow.
7:35 am— Tenderly lick your face.
7:45am — Tenderly lick your face.
7:55am — Tenderly lick your face.
8:00am — Fall asleep on top of your laptop at the exact moment you need to start working. Stay asleep at all costs. AT ALL COSTS! Mrow.