THE BACK-TO-SCHOOL PANIC

 September.

The month when the sun is lazy, the socks return, and—most tragically—the tiny humans next door resume their daily 7 a.m. screaming ritual.

Every morning, like clockwork, they shriek.
Someone always lost a shoe. Someone else refuses to eat their “suspicious toast.” Someone is screaming about math.
I feel this deeply.

Naturally, I decided to help.

So now I begin my contribution at 5:00 a.m. sharp.
I call it:
🎵 “The Song of My People: Back-to-School Edition.”
It begins with a slow, dramatic yowl in the hallway—echoing perfectly through the tiles.

Act I: “The Litter Box Is Wrong.”
Act II: “Where Is the Tuna I Dreamt Of?”
Act III: “I’m Just Going to Stare at the Wall and Howl Now.”

The human stumbles out of bed, looking like a sea sponge in a hoodie, whispering, “Why?”
I respond with a tail flick and a piercing soprano note that rattles the toaster.

Then, right at 7:00 a.m.—the Screaming Next-Door Children join in.
Their performance is chaotic and loud. Raw, unpolished, but undeniably committed.
It’s like a duet.
A symphony of suffering.

Kitka? Still asleep in the sock drawer.
Spurka? Hiding behind the curtain, muttering, “Not again.”
Cowards.

But me? I sing for all cats whose sleep has ever been disturbed by squeaky lunchboxes and mismatched shoelaces.

And tomorrow…
We go again.