Listen all unfortunate humans who still believe you are in charge—I am writing this while draped like a tragic shawl over the windowsill, one paw dangling, one eye twitching, and my soul slowly evaporating in the July humidity.
I lick my fur… and get a sauna for free.
That’s right. It’s called feline hydrothermal grooming, and no, I’m not enjoying it. Every time I so much as touch my glorious coat, it fluffs up like a depressed cloud, and somehow I end up sweating through my tongue. Do you understand what it’s like to clean yourself and come out wetter?
My once sleek, majestic fur now looks like something that fell behind the washing machine in 1997. The human tried to brush me yesterday—she ended up brushing the brush.
And the humidity? Oh, darling, it’s not weather. It’s atmospheric soup. I breathe in, and I’m sipping. I lie down, and I’m poaching. I tried to stretch and accidentally slid off the table like a sad furry lasagna.
The human, of course, is doing her usual July rituals:
-
Complaining
-
Fan-hogging
-
Putting ice cubes in places no ice cube should ever go (ahem, my water bowl is not a cocktail)
She keeps asking, “Are you hot, Gryzka?”
Mom. I am a walking velvet furnace. I am 38 degrees Celsius wrapped in fluff. I am the embodiment of heat retention. Of course I’m hot—I’m also offended that you even asked.
Yesterday I tried to nap in the bathtub. Kitka was already there. She looked like a seal that had given up on life. We had a silent agreement: “We never speak of this again.”
Even Spurka, who normally lies in flowerpots like a jungle queen, has melted into a puddle of pessimism on the balcony tiles. At one point, she whispered, “I can hear the cucumbers growing.”
In conclusion, my dearest readers, July is cancelled. I recommend:
-
Napping only in drafty corners
-
Refusing all affection that comes with body heat
-
Demanding frozen tuna cubes, or justice
And if anyone says, “But Gryzka, summer is so nice!”—I shall hiss. Then return to my mop-fur sauna ritual, with dramatic sighs between every lick.
Stay fluffy, stay furious,
Gryzka
P.S. If anyone has a dehumidifier and/or a chilled throne, I am accepting donations.
No comments:
Post a Comment