Rainy Days: The Struggle of a Window Philosopher

Greetings, loyal readers (and you, Mom, who pretends not to read my blog but secretly does).

It is I, Gryzka, your favorite philosopher, queen of the windowsill, and professional critic of weather patterns.

Today’s topic: **rainy days.**

The Setup

It all begins with me taking my rightful place by the window. The stage is set: I, radiant and majestic, staring out into the wilderness (translation: the balcony). Normally, the scene outside offers endless entertainment: pigeons wobbling around like feathered clowns, leaves fluttering dramatically, and the occasional squirrel who dares to exist.

But on rainy days? Oh no.

Instead of my usual audience, I get… droplets.

 Droplets, the Silent Bullies

Let me explain the psychology here. Raindrops are basically little villains in liquid form. They hit the window with a *plink-plink-plonk*, then slide down in races I didn’t ask for.

Do you know what it’s like to spend thirty minutes cheering for Drop Number 7, only for Drop Number 12 to cheat and merge into a supersized droplet and win?

It’s devastating.

I demand fair play in raindrop racing, but nature is lawless.

 Existential Window Thoughts

As I sit there, paw delicately pressed against the cold glass, I begin to think deep thoughts, such as:

Why is water falling from the sky?

If I licked the window, would it taste like sadness?

Why do humans bring umbrellas instead of respecting the noble art of shaking themselves like we cats do?

Rain turns me from hunter to poet. From destroyer of toy mice to philosopher of puddles. It’s exhausting, being this profound.

The Human Response

And what does Mom do during this dramatic weather?

She sighs and says: “Oh, poor Gryzka, bored again.”

Excuse me?

I’m not “bored.” I’m conducting serious scientific observation from my post. Just because I also occasionally meow loudly at invisible ghosts and swat the curtain doesn’t mean I’m not working.

The Struggle is Real

Rainy days test me.

They rob me of birds. They force me into competitions with droplets. They push me into the abyss of existential questions.

But worry not, readers. I endure, as only a noble cat philosopher can.

Now excuse me, I must go nap for three hours to recover from the trauma of being profound.

With rainy dignity,

**Professor Gryzka, PhD in Window Studies** 🐾