The Weather Has Personally Insulted Me

I have a complaint.

A serious complaint.

Possibly the most serious complaint I have ever filed, and I have filed many. There was the chicken incident, the blanket relocation scandal, the suspiciously small treat portions, and the time the human closed a door while I was still considering whether I wanted to walk through it.

But this?

This is different.

**It is raining.**

And nobody has asked my permission.

I discovered the situation shortly after breakfast, when I took my usual position at the window. I had important work to do. The garden needed inspecting. The birds needed supervising. A suspicious leaf had been behaving strangely near the fence, and I intended to observe it until it confessed.

I jumped onto the windowsill.

Settled my paws.

Arranged my tail.

Looked outside.

And saw water.

Everywhere.

The glass was covered in little drops. The garden looked wet. The path looked wet. Even the birds appeared to be having a miserable morning.

I stared at the scene for a long time.

Then I called the human.

“Meow.”

She looked up from her computer.

“What is it, Gryzka?”

I turned toward the window.

“Meow.”

She glanced outside.

“Oh, it's raining.”

OH, IT'S RAINING?

That's your explanation?

You have looked at the evidence and concluded that it is raining?

Excellent detective work. Shall I arrange a medal?

I returned to the window and continued my investigation.

Someone was responsible for this.

And I intended to find out who.

## 🕵️ Exhibit A: The Suspicious Water

I began by examining the drops on the glass.

They were small.

Transparent.

Numerous.

And extremely annoying.

Every few seconds, one of them moved down the window.

I watched it.

It stopped.

I watched harder.

It moved again.

I nearly fell off the windowsill.

This was clearly a hostile operation designed to distract me from my duties.

The drops were not behaving naturally.

They were moving without legs.

I have four legs, and even I cannot slide down a window like that.

I called Kitka over to inspect the evidence.

Kitka is older than I am and has the sort of expression that makes humans believe she understands complicated matters. Sometimes she does. Sometimes she is thinking about lunch.

She climbed onto the windowsill, examined the rain, and sat down.

“Well?” I asked.

“It's water.”

I stared at her.

“Thank you, Kitka. Your contribution will be included in the final report.”

She closed her eyes.

The investigation was not going well.

## 🐈 Spurka Has a Theory

Spurka arrived next.

She is excellent at investigations because she can appear silently from absolutely nowhere. One moment the hallway is empty, and the next moment she is standing behind you, looking as if she has known your secrets for years.

I explained the situation.

Rain on the window.

Wet garden.

Missing bird activity.

Suspicious drops.

Possible conspiracy.

Spurka listened carefully.

Then she said, “Perhaps the sky is leaking.”

I considered this.

It was a reasonable theory.

The sky is enormous, poorly maintained, and apparently has no customer service department.

I made a note.

**POSSIBLE CAUSE: STRUCTURAL FAILURE OF THE SKY.**

Kitka opened one eye.

“The sky isn't a roof.”

“Then why is water coming through it?”

Kitka had no answer.

I recorded her silence as a partial victory.

## 🌿 Lenka Inspects the Garden

Lenka volunteered to investigate the garden.

I immediately rejected the proposal.

Nobody was going outside in that weather.

We are cats, not unpaid agricultural workers.

Lenka insisted that she could inspect the garden from the other side of the window.

This was acceptable.

She stared at the wet plants for several minutes.

Then she announced, “The grass looks different.”

Of course it looks different.

It's covered in water.

We were surrounded by amateur detectives.

I took over the investigation.

## 📋 The Weather Department

I have decided that the weather must be managed by an organization.

Humans have departments for everything.

They have departments for taxes, traffic, rubbish collection, and other things that seem designed to make life unnecessarily complicated.

Therefore, there must be a Weather Department.

Somewhere, a group of humans is sitting in a warm office, drinking coffee, looking at charts, and deciding whether my garden should be dry.

And this morning, they made a decision.

Rain.

Without consultation.

Without notice.

Without even a small apology.

I demand to know their qualifications.

Have they ever tried to watch a bird through a rain-covered window?

Have they ever attempted to identify a suspicious movement in a wet hedge?

Have they ever been forced to stare at a puddle for forty minutes because the world outside has become too blurry to understand?

I doubt it.

If they had, this disaster would never have happened.

## 🐦 The Birds Have Disappeared

The next problem is the birds.

Normally, the garden has an excellent population of small feathered creatures who behave in ways that require constant monitoring.

They hop.

They flutter.

They land on branches.

They make noises.

They occasionally look directly at me, which I consider a challenge.

But today?

Nothing.

No birds on the fence.

No birds in the tree.

No birds hopping around the garden.

I searched the entire visible area.

Nothing.

I looked under the hedge.

Nothing.

I examined the branches.

Nothing.

I checked the bird feeder.

Still nothing.

Where have they gone?

Have they been informed about the rain?

Did someone send them a message?

Do they have a private weather forecast?

Why does everyone seem to know what is happening except me?

I have excellent hearing, excellent eyesight, and an outstanding ability to detect the opening of a treat packet from another room.

Yet I have not received a single notification about the weather.

This household's communication system is disgraceful.

## 😾 The Human Makes Everything Worse

At approximately eleven o'clock, the human approached the window.

I was still sitting there, monitoring the situation.

She looked outside.

Then she looked at me.

“Poor Gryzka. You can't go out in this weather.”

I turned slowly.

Excuse me?

I had not requested permission to go outside.

I was working.

There is a difference.

She stroked my head.

“Never mind. It'll stop eventually.”

Eventually?

There is that word again.

Humans use it whenever they have no useful information.

When will dinner be ready?

Eventually.

When will you open the door?

Eventually.

When will the rain stop?

Eventually.

I am beginning to suspect that humans have no idea what they are doing.

They simply walk around saying things and hope the situation improves.

## 🍗 Compensation Is Required

At this point, I believe compensation is appropriate.

The rain has disrupted my professional activities.

My window-watching schedule has been damaged.

My bird-monitoring duties have been suspended.

The garden inspection is incomplete.

My emotional wellbeing has suffered.

And I have spent the entire morning looking at water.

Therefore, I have prepared a list of acceptable compensation.

**Option One:** Chicken.

**Option Two:** More chicken.

**Option Three:** Chicken served in a manner suggesting genuine remorse.

**Option Four:** A treat allowance sufficient to cover the emotional consequences of prolonged rainfall.

The human suggested that I could have my usual lunch.

My usual lunch?

In the middle of a weather disaster?

I looked at her with the expression I normally reserve for empty food bowls.

She sighed.

Then she went to the kitchen.

I followed.

Perhaps the Weather Department has a complaints budget after all.

## 🛋️ An Unexpected Development

After lunch, I returned to the window.

The rain was still falling.

I watched it for a while.

Then I sat down.

Then I stretched.

Then I discovered that the cushion beside the window was surprisingly comfortable.

This presented an interesting opportunity.

If I could not monitor the birds, I could monitor the human.

She was at her desk.

Typing.

Occasionally drinking coffee.

Occasionally looking at the rain.

Occasionally saying things like, “What miserable weather.”

I began to understand something.

Humans also dislike the rain.

They cannot go for walks as easily. Their shoes get wet. Their hair behaves strangely. They carry umbrellas that turn inside out at the slightest inconvenience.

And they keep looking at the sky as if it might apologize.

For a brief moment, I felt sympathy.

Then the human said, “At least it's good weather for staying indoors.”

I looked at her.

Good weather?

GOOD WEATHER?

You have a roof, a blanket, hot drinks, books, a computer, and an entire house.

I have a window.

We are not experiencing the same situation.

## 🌧️ The Final Investigation

By late afternoon, I had gathered sufficient evidence to prepare my official report.

**CASE TITLE:** The Weather Has Personally Insulted Me.

**DATE:** A day on which the sky behaved disgracefully.

**PRIMARY SUSPECT:** The Weather Department.

**SECONDARY SUSPECT:** The Sky Maintenance Division.

**POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICES:** Clouds, wind, and any human who claims to enjoy rainy days.

**EVIDENCE:** Wet glass, wet garden, absent birds, general unpleasantness.

**WITNESS STATEMENTS:** Inconclusive. Kitka claims it is water. Spurka believes the sky is leaking. Lenka says the grass looks different.

**FINANCIAL DAMAGES:** One morning of interrupted bird surveillance.

**EMOTIONAL DAMAGES:** Significant.

**COMPENSATION REQUESTED:** Chicken.

**CASE STATUS:** OPEN.

I presented the report to the human.

She read it.

She laughed.

Then she said, “You're ridiculous, Gryzka.”

I was deeply offended.

I am not ridiculous.

I am a professional investigator working under difficult conditions.

There is a difference.

## 🐾 A Small Problem With My Theory

Later that evening, something happened.

The rain stopped.

Just like that.

The drops disappeared from the glass. The clouds began to move away. A bird landed on the fence.

I immediately returned to my post.

Everything was back to normal.

The bird hopped once.

I watched.

It hopped again.

I watched harder.

Then it flew away.

I sat there, stunned.

All that investigation.

All that paperwork.

All those accusations.

And the rain had simply stopped without consulting me.

I looked toward the sky.

“Don't think this means we're friends.”

The sky remained silent.

Typical.

## 📋 Gryzka's Official Weather Policy

After reviewing the events of the day, I have established the following rules for all future weather incidents.

**Rule One:** Rain must be announced in advance.

**Rule Two:** The Weather Department must provide a clear explanation for any unexpected precipitation.

**Rule Three:** Bird activity must be maintained at acceptable levels regardless of atmospheric conditions.

**Rule Four:** All affected cats must receive compensation.

**Rule Five:** Compensation must be edible.

**Rule Six:** The phrase “at least it's good weather for staying indoors” is prohibited unless accompanied by chicken.

**Rule Seven:** If the rain continues for more than three hours, the human must provide additional snacks and verbal reassurance.

**Rule Eight:** If the human laughs at the official report, the case automatically remains open.

I consider these rules perfectly reasonable.

The human has not signed them.

This is an administrative problem, and I will address it tomorrow.

Possibly after breakfast.

Possibly after a nap.

Possibly after several treats.

I am a very busy cat.

And the weather is still under investigation.

Love,

**Gryzka** 🐯🌧️

*Chief Investigator, Department of Atmospheric Injustice*\
*Senior Consultant in Window-Based Surveillance*\
*Director of Rainfall Complaints and Chicken Compensation*

**P.S.** The rain has started again.

I am reopening the case.

The Weather Department has clearly learned nothing.