By Reggie, Professional Blanket Lump
I don’t know what the cats are always complaining about. This place is great. Warm blankets. Snacks. Humans who don’t move nearly enough when I’m trying to nap on top of them.
But every morning, the humans say, “Reggie, wanna go outside?”
Outside? OUTSIDE?!
It’s cold. The grass is wet. The squirrels are rude. No thank you.
Meanwhile, the cats just sit inside all day, judging me from their window thrones. I see them. I know what they’re doing. Plotting. Whispering. Probably writing weird blanket manifestos.
Last night, I overheard Bellatrix muttering something about “escape tunnels” and “sock fortresses.” I don’t know what she’s planning, but I’m not a snitch. I just want my blanket back.
I tried joining their little under-the-bed rebellion once. Got stuck. Took three humans and a bag of treats to extract me. Never again.
So I’ve claimed the top of the bed. Right on top of my humans. It’s warm. It’s soft. It smells like snacks. And if they try to move me?
I go full limp noodle.
—Reggie 🐾
Grump-in-Chief, Blanket Enforcement Division