May has arrived.
The birds are screaming.
The flowers are blooming.
The humans are opening windows like they suddenly own nature.
This is my official manifesto.
Please read carefully. There will be no questions at the end because I do not respect authority.
Rule #1: If the Sunbeam Exists, It Belongs to Me
I do not care if:
- you were sitting there first,
- you are “working,”
- or your laptop costs more than my yearly tuna budget.
The sunbeam has chosen me.
Move accordingly.
May is a sacred season of floor naps, dramatic stretching, and lying directly in doorways like a furry traffic cone. Humans should consider it an honor to step over me seventeen times a day.
Rule #2: Balcony Time Is Extremely Important Business
Every May, I begin my annual Neighborhood Surveillance Program.
From the balcony I must monitor:
- pigeons,
- suspicious leaves,
- clouds that seem arrogant,
- and one specific crow I personally distrust.
Do I know what the crow did?
No.
But he knows.
Rule #3: Plants Are Decorative Until I Eat Them
Humans every single year:
“Gryzka, don’t chew the flowers.”
Then WHY are they crunchy-shaped?
Honestly, humans buy plants and act shocked when cats interact with them. That’s like putting cheesecake in front of a raccoon and expecting professionalism.
I will nibble:
- flowers,
- grass,
- herbs,
- and occasionally plastic for spiritual reasons.
Rule #4: Spring Energy Must Be Released Immediately
At least once a day, I will sprint through the apartment at the speed of light while making eye contact with nobody.
This is called:
✨ The May Zoomies ✨
Symptoms include:
- jumping off invisible walls,
- terrifying Spurka,
- sliding dramatically across the floor,
- and accidentally entering another dimension behind the sofa.
Do not interfere.
Scientists still cannot explain where the energy comes from.
Personally, I believe I absorb power directly from dandelions.
Rule #5: I Refuse to Behave Normally
Humans love saying things like:
“Why are you like this?”
An excellent question.
Why do I scream before eating and then stare at the food like it personally offended me?
Why do I demand the door open and then refuse to cross the threshold?
Why do I sleep all day and become a haunted Victorian child at 3 AM?
Because I contain multitudes.
Also because chaos builds character.
Rule #6: Kitka Is Not Allowed to Win
This is not hatred.
This is competition.
If Kitka sits in a box, suddenly I need that box more than oxygen itself. If she receives attention, I immediately collapse nearby as if abandoned by society.
Spurka pretends to stay neutral, but honestly? Weak leadership.
Rule #7: Every Blanket Is My Blanket
This applies especially to:
- freshly folded laundry,
- black clothing,
- important papers,
- and anything you needed five seconds ago.
Humans say I shed too much.
Incorrect.
I decorate.
Rule #8: I Am Tiny Baby and Powerful Queen Simultaneously
These identities do not conflict.
One moment I am:
a fierce jungle predator stalking a sock.
The next:
crying because the food bowl reflects light in a suspicious way.
Complexity is part of my charm.
Final Declaration
This May, I encourage all cats to:
- knock something small off a shelf,
- demand second breakfast,
- scream at dawn for no reason,
- and believe in themselves the way cats believe every closed door is a personal attack.
Remember:
Life is short.
Nap often.
Cause confusion.
Leave fur everywhere like a signature.
And above all—
be too purr-fect to behave.
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