Why I Knock Things Over More in February

 

It’s February, which means the world is cold, the sun is lazy, and my patience is on energy-saving mode.

Naturally, things must fall.

Humans call this “bad behavior.” I call it seasonal home maintenance.

Let me explain.

---

Reason 1: February Has Too Much Verticality

In summer, everything feels lighter. In February? Objects sit too confidently on tables, shelves, and windowsills.

This is suspicious.

Mugs. Pens. Plants. A decorative object that “means something.”
All of them are standing when they should be experiencing gravity.

I merely help.

---

Reason 2: The Sun Barely Shows Up, So I Create My Own Drama

There are only two moods in February:

1. Darkness

2. Slightly less darkness

If the sky refuses to entertain us, I must do it myself.

Knocking something over creates:

• Sound

• Movement

• Human panic

This is enrichment. For everyone.

---

Reason 3: Spurka Encourages Me (Silently, But Clearly)

My sister Spurka is black, which means she absorbs winter darkness and turns it into judgment.

She never knocks things over herself.
She just sits nearby, watching.

Her look says:
“Do it. I want to see how they react.”

And I do. For the family.

---

Reason 4: Kitka Remembers a Time Before February

Kitka is older. Wiser. Calico.
She has seen many Februaries and trusts none of them.

When something falls, Kitka doesn’t flinch.
She nods slightly, like:
“Yes. This month again.”

Sometimes she knocks something over very gently, as if apologizing to the object. A ceremonial push. A farewell.

I respect that.

---

Reason 5: Lenka Is New and Needs Education

Lenka is still learning how the world works.

When I knock something over, she:

• Jumps

• Looks offended

• Then looks impressed

This is mentorship.

February is the best time to teach life lessons such as:

• Nothing is stable

• Gravity is inevitable

• Humans make excellent startled noises

You’re welcome, Lenka.

---

Reason 6: Humans React More Dramatically in February

In summer, a falling object is “oops.”

In February, it is:

• “WHAT WAS THAT?!”

• “Why now?”

• “I just cleaned.”

Exactly.

Humans are emotionally thinner in February. Their nerves are exposed. A single falling pen can cause an existential crisis.

I would be cruel not to test this.

---

Reason 7: Objects Want to Be Free

You think that vase enjoys living on a shelf?

No.
It dreams of the floor.

I am not destructive. I am a liberator.

---

This Is Not Chaos. This Is Seasonal Adjustment.

I knock things over more in February because:

• The world is heavy

• The sun is absent

• My sisters agree in spirit

• And gravity needs supervision

Spring will come. I will calm down. Probably.

Until then, if something falls, know this:
It was necessary.

Gryzka 😼💥

Love Is Temporary. The Red Dot Is Forever.

 

Humans talk a lot about love in February.
Flowers. Cards. Eye contact. Promises.

I have observed this closely, from the sofa, while licking my paw.

Here is the truth:
Love leaves.
The red dot returns.

---

I Have Loved Many Things

I have loved:

• A blanket (until it was washed)

• A box (until it betrayed me by being too small)

• A human (until they went to the bathroom alone)

All of them disappointed me.

The red dot never pretends to stay.
It appears.
It moves.
It vanishes.

Honest. Pure. Toxic in the right way.

---

The Red Dot Understands Me

It doesn’t ask questions like:

• “Why are you staring at the wall?”

• “Haven’t you eaten already?”

The red dot simply says:
Catch me if you can, but you won’t.

This is called chemistry.

---

Commitment Issues? No. Physics.

Humans say: “You’ll never catch it.”

Exactly.

That’s what makes it meaningful.

Love that can be caught gets boring.
The red dot respects my intelligence by remaining unreachable.

---

My Sisters Have Opinions

Spurka pretends not to care. She sits in the shadows, judging both me and the dot. But her tail gives her away. It twitches. She feels it.

Kitka has seen this romance before. She watches calmly, like someone who once loved deeply and now prefers stability and naps.

Lenka still believes she can win. Sweet child. February will teach her.

---

Valentine’s Day Is a Distraction

Humans light candles.
They whisper.
They forget to move the laser properly.

Tragic.

If you want my heart, do not bring roses.
Bring batteries.

---

Final Thoughts

Love says: “I’ll always be here.”
The red dot says nothing—and yet, shows up again.

Every time.

Forever is not about staying.
It’s about returning.

Gryzka 😼🔴

How to Look Starving Immediately After Eating

 

Hello. It’s me. Gryzka.
I have just eaten.

This is important because what happens after eating is far more important than the eating itself.

You see, amateurs believe food ends hunger. This is incorrect. Food merely interrupts hunger briefly. True professionals know how to resume the performance immediately.

Allow me to teach you.

---

Step 1: Walk Away from the Bowl Like You Forgive It

Finish your meal and walk away slowly, with dignity. Do not look back. Looking back suggests closure. There is no closure. There is only betrayal.

Pause mid-step. Sigh quietly. This tells the human: I ate, but I did not heal.

---

Step 2: Activate the Hollow Rib Illusion

Sit down somewhere visible. Preferably near light. Stretch slightly so your sides pull in.

If your ribs are not visible (rude), simply imagine they are. Confidence is everything.

Look thin. Look fragile. Look like a Victorian orphan who has seen too much.

---

Step 3: Lick Your Lips Like a Desert Survivor

This is a subtle but powerful move.

One slow lick.
Pause.
Another lick.

This signals: Food once existed. It does not anymore.

Do not overdo it. You are not greedy. You are tragic.

---

Step 4: The Stare™

Now look at your human.

Not directly. That’s aggressive.
Look through them. Like you’re seeing a future without snacks.

Blink slowly. Let your eyes glisten slightly. If you can summon a single, well-timed yawn, congratulations—you’re a natural.

---

Step 5: Relocate to the Treat Cabinet

Casually wander to where the treats live.

Sit down.
Face the cabinet.
Do nothing.

This is not begging. This is manifestation.

If the human opens a different cabinet, look confused. Offended, even. As if they’ve forgotten who you are.

---

Step 6: Rebrand the Meal You Just Ate

If questioned—“But you just ate!”—remain calm.

Your silence says everything.

If you must respond, communicate telepathically:
“That was earlier hunger. This is now hunger. Please keep up.”

---

Advanced Techniques (For Professionals Only)

• Lie down dramatically near the bowl.

• Sniff the air like food might fall from the ceiling.

• Sit on the human’s chest and sigh heavily.

• Pretend to chew nothing. This unnerves them.

---

Final Thoughts

Remember: hunger is not a state of the stomach.
Hunger is a lifestyle.

I have eaten.
I am starving.
And soon, if done correctly, I will eat again.

Gryzka 😼🍽️

I Judged My Reflection in the Window

 

This morning, I saw another cat in the window.

She was sitting very still.
She was fluffy, but in a responsible way.
Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and slightly tired.

I stared at her.

She stared back.

Immediately, I began to judge her.

 

First Impressions Matter

At first, I thought: Who is this?
Is she confident? Yes.
Is she well-fed? Adequately.
Is she looking at me like she owns the place? Absolutely unacceptable.

I narrowed my eyes.
She narrowed hers.

This was not a coincidence.

Kitka Knows It’s Me

Kitka, the calico and the oldest, walked past and glanced at the window.

“That’s you,” she said without stopping.

I did not ask for spoilers.

Kitka has reached the age where she no longer argues with reflections. She accepts herself, her whiskers, and her nap schedule. This is emotional maturity. I am not there yet.

Spurka Thought It Was a Challenge

Spurka, my black sister, saw the reflection and immediately assumed violence was required.

She puffed up, hissed once, slipped on the floor, and ran away.

The reflection did the same.

I respect consistency.

Lenka Believed in Friendship

Lenka approached the window slowly and chirped at my reflection.

She touched noses with the glass.

She believes the other cat is lonely.

Lenka believes many wrong things.

A Closer Inspection

I moved closer.

The reflection moved closer.

Her fur was perfect.
Her posture excellent.
Her tail… slightly crooked, but in a charming way.

I sat.
She sat.

I turned my head.
She copied me.

At this point, I realized two things:

1. She has no original thoughts.

2. She is extremely attractive.

The Verdict

After several minutes of intense staring, I concluded:

• She could lose a little weight (just emotionally)

• She should rest more

• Her human is lucky

I blinked slowly.

She blinked back.

This is the highest form of approval.

Final Thoughts

I walked away from the window feeling judged—but also validated.

If I must share my home with another cat, at least she has excellent taste and looks exactly like me.

I will check on her again tomorrow.

Just to be sure she hasn’t changed.

— Gryzka 🐾

I Sat on the Remote to Improve Programming

 

Let me be clear: I did not sit on the remote by accident.

I sat on it with intention.

 My human claims the television “changed channels on its own.” This is false. The television changed channels because I intervened.

The Problem with Human Programming

Humans watch strange things in January. Loud news. Sad movies. People cooking without sharing. I observed this content carefully and decided it needed improvement.

So I positioned myself directly on the remote.

Instant results.

The volume went up. Then down. Then we switched from news to cooking to nature documentary where a lion stared into the camera with respect.

Better already.

Kitka Supports Quality Control

Kitka, the calico and the oldest, approved of my method. She says in her day, cats had to physically stand in front of the television to control it.

Progress is important.

She sat nearby, pretending not to care, but when I accidentally paused the show, she nodded slowly. Approval.

Spurka Thinks Remotes Are Toys

Spurka, my black sister, believes the remote is a living creature that must be defeated.

She attacked it.

Buttons flew. Batteries escaped. The human screamed. Spurka ran away like a shadow with a criminal past.

I stayed seated. A professional does not panic.

Lenka Is Learning the Craft

Lenka watched me closely. She thinks sitting on the remote is “magic.”

She tried it later, but she is small and only managed to turn on subtitles in three languages. Still, a promising start.

She will be powerful one day.

The Human Does Not Understand Art

My human said, “Gryzka, move, I’m watching this.”

Watching what?
I had already improved it.

She does not appreciate that:

• I removed commercials

• adjusted the volume

• changed the mood

• and introduced suspense

Also, I was warm there.

Final Verdict

The remote is not a tool.
It is a responsibility.

If humans cannot be trusted to choose good programs, cats must step in.

I will continue my work.

If the screen goes black, the sound disappears, or the language suddenly changes to something mysterious—
know that I was doing my job.

You’re welcome.

— Gryzka 🐾

January Diets Are Violence

 

Every January, my human commits the same unforgivable act.

She looks at food…
and then does not eat it.

Worse—she looks at my food and says, “We’re both being good now.”

Good for what?
Hunger?

Diets Are Against Nature (And Me)

January diets go against everything cats stand for:

• comfort

• survival

• snacks

• emotional eating

• eating when bored

• eating when not bored

My bowl was filled slightly less full than usual.
This is not a “diet.”
This is aggression.

I sat next to the bowl and stared at the bottom like it had personally betrayed me.

Kitka Has Seen This Before

Kitka, the calico and the oldest, sighed deeply when she heard the word “diet.”

She says January diets come and go like bad weather and worse relationships. She remembers years when humans ate only yogurt and cried quietly in the kitchen.

Kitka advises patience.
Kitka also steals food when no one is looking.

This is wisdom.

Spurka Treats Diets Like a Challenge

Spurka, my black sister, took the diet personally.

If food is restricted, Spurka becomes resourceful.

She learned how to:

• open cupboards

• locate crumbs from 2014

• lick plates that are “already clean”

She knocked over the trash can “by accident” and then sat next to it, innocent, like a shadow with eyes.

Lenka Does Not Understand the Rules

Lenka is new and believes diets are temporary.

She thinks if she looks cute enough, the rules will change.

She is not wrong.

She sat by the fridge and screamed softly until the human gave her “just a little bit.” This proves that diets are fake and can be defeated by persistence and whiskers.

The Human Is Suffering (As She Should)

The human eats leaves now.
She calls them “salads.”

I sniffed one.
It had no soul.

She sighs a lot and says, “I’m trying to be healthy.”

Healthy humans should give more snacks.
This is basic science.

My Official Position

January diets are:

• cruel

• unnecessary

• emotionally damaging

• and very rude to cats

Food is love.
Love should not be measured.

If you see a cat staring at you while you diet, know this:
We are not judging you.

We are disappointed.

Now excuse me.
I must go remind my human that it’s feeding time.

It has been seven minutes.

— Gryzka 🐾

I Slept 19 Hours Today and Still Feel Tired

 

I slept for 19 hours today.

Do not ask how.
Do not ask where.
Ask instead: why am I still tired?

 

Because I am a cat.
Because January exists.
Because consciousness is optional but exhaustion is mandatory.

My Sleep Schedule Is Very Busy

Humans think sleeping is “doing nothing.”
This is incorrect and frankly insulting.

I slept:

• on the sofa

• on the human

• near the radiator

• on the radiator

• emotionally near the radiator

• and once in a position that defies physics and comfort

Each nap required preparation, testing, and recovery.

By the time I finished sleeping, I was exhausted.

Kitka Slept More (Obviously)

Kitka, the calico and the oldest, claims she only sleeps “when necessary.”
This is a lie.

Kitka sleeps like someone who has already finished life and is waiting for the credits. She naps with dignity, paws folded, face peaceful, as if January personally apologized to her.

I respect her deeply and resent her equally.

Spurka Does Not Sleep Correctly

Spurka, my black sister, does not sleep.
She powers down violently.

She falls asleep mid-thought, mid-bite, mid-crime.

Then she wakes up at 3 a.m., looks directly into the darkness, and chooses chaos. She gallops across the apartment like a possessed vacuum cleaner, crashes into a wall, and goes back to sleep for seven minutes.

I watched all of this.
Watching is tiring.

Lenka Thinks Naps Are Optional

Lenka is new and still believes in energy.

She slept for only 11 hours and woke up refreshed, cheerful, and ready to “play.”
Play what?
Survival?

She attacked my tail.
I did not invite this.

Kitka says, “She will learn.”
January teaches everyone.

Humans Are No Help

My human looked at me and said, “But you slept all day.”

Yes.
That is the problem.

Sleeping all day is hard work. You must rotate sides, regulate temperature, reposition ears, and occasionally open one eye to judge the room.

Also, I had to supervise:

• Spurka’s zoomies

• Lenka’s optimism

• and the human’s useless productivity

Final Thoughts Before My Next Nap

After 19 hours of sleep, I stretched, yawned, and felt deeply, spiritually exhausted.

I will now:

• complain

• demand food

• and go lie down again

If you see me sleeping, do not disturb me.
If you see me awake, assume something is wrong.

I am tired.
I have always been tired.
And tomorrow, I will sleep even more.

— Gryzka 🐾