Gryzka, CEO of Chaos

April has arrived, and with it, my human is glued to her computer, furrowing her brows and typing furiously. This is unacceptable.

I am Gryzka the Magnificent, and I do not tolerate being ignored.

Phase One: The Keyboard Takeover

She is typing away, her fingers clicking like tiny rodents skittering across a hard floor. Naturally, I must investigate.

With the grace of a jungle predator, I leap onto the desk and flop directly onto the keyboard.

Instant reaction. “Gryzka, no! I’m working!”

Lies. What could be more important than me?

I stretch luxuriously, pressing as many keys as possible with my mighty paws. A strange combination of letters fills the screen:
“jskdfhskdfhGFFFGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!”

She gasps and quickly presses some buttons. I don’t know what I did, but it was clearly important.

Instead of thanking me, she picks me up and places me on the floor. How rude.

I glare at her. She will pay for this.

Phase Two: The Stationery Purge

Denied access to the keyboard, I switch to Plan B: Desk Disruption.

I spot a collection of pens, neatly placed in a cup. Disgusting. They must be eliminated. One by one, I swipe them to the floor.

Clatter.

“Gryzka, stop that!”

I make eye contact and slowly push the last pen off the edge.

She sighs and picks them up, placing them back in the cup. A fool’s mistake—I repeat the process immediately.

After the third round, she mutters something about how “she should have gotten a dog.” I pretend not to hear.

Phase Three: The Video Call Invasion

Just as I am considering my next act of sabotage, my human puts on her Serious Work Face. She presses a button and a human’s voice comes from the screen.

“Hello, Anna! Can you hear me?”

She speaks back. “Yes, hi! Let’s go over the project updates.”

A perfect opportunity.

With a single bound, I jump onto her lap and climb onto her shoulders like a proud parrot. I stare directly into the camera.

“Oh! What a cute cat!” the person on the screen says. Finally, some recognition.

My human groans. “Sorry, she’s—Gryzka, get down!”

Absolutely not.

I walk back and forth in front of the screen, ensuring that my glorious fur is displayed in full HD.

Suddenly, I hear my own name. “Anna, does Gryzka help with your work?”

My human laughs. “If by ‘help,’ you mean creating chaos, then yes.”

Excuse me? I am a valuable contributor.

To prove my importance, I turn around and press my butt directly against the camera.

My human gasps. “Gryzka!”

Her coworker chuckles. “Looks like she’s very involved in the process.”

Yes. Finally, someone understands.

Phase Four: The Great Printer Showdown

The call ends, and my human resumes her “work” (which, frankly, seems a lot less productive without my contributions). Suddenly, the printer hums to life.

I attack.

The paper moves, so I must stop it. I bat at the pages as they emerge, trying to drag them back inside.

“Gryzka, no! That’s my report!”

I do not care.

I bite a corner. Delicious. A masterpiece. I have officially edited her work.

Defeated, she gives up. “Fine. You win.”

Yes. Of course, I do.

Conclusion: My Work Here is Done

After an exhausting day of improving my human’s productivity, I retire to the couch for a well-earned nap.

I dream of a world where my contributions are properly appreciated.

Perhaps tomorrow, I will help again. Maybe I will send an important email by walking across the keyboard. Or rearrange the desk by knocking everything off.

A new day, a new opportunity for chaos.

You’re welcome, human.