I resent the implication surfacing lately that I am some sort of “lap cat.” This is absolutely not true. It’s just that the people in the office can’t get enough of me. And who could blame them? During the holiday season, I’m certain they’re happy to benefit from my soothing and therapeutic presence. In fact, countless studies have pointed to pets lowering stress, so I’m not only providing them with a much-needed service, I’m possibly saving their lives. But at what cost?This rumor is seriously hurting my street-cred and must stop. I am a ferocious being of the night that this office is constantly losing the battle to tame. I am panther, deity, cat princess….
But so far only the receptionist seems to pay proper tribute fit for a god. She has cans of wet food waiting for me every morning! But does anyone else in the office? No.
And when I protest about the dry food in my quarters does anyone listen? Not a chance. They just wave a laser pointer at me and laugh when I climb the wall. They don’t seem to understand how lucky they are to even look upon me, especially when I lower myself to entertain them. No no. This cuddly image is no good at all. If you need me I’ll be on my throne.
