The cat had a bad morning
The house cat took morning discontent to a new level.
His ginger face expresses not just discontent, but a whole epic of life's hardships. Barely opening his eyes, he froze, like a statue of a philosopher who realized the frailty of existence. This cat is the living embodiment of that very morning when reality hits you on the head with a to-do list longer than the line for shawarma on Friday night.
In the eyes of the fluffy one, there is a mortgage that has stretched out for forty years, like an endless TV series with no ending, a job that makes you want to howl at the moon, and a broken car whose bolts creak louder than his own joints. But even in this drama, the cat maintains his dignity. He does not meow pitifully, but looks at the world with the stern grace of a commander whose army is wool, and whose banner is a proudly raised tail.
