Others have it far worse (or better, depending on how you look at it): they're actually run by an inner soul cat, some feline puppeteer pulling the strings like a bonus character straight out of an Inside Out sequel. If you happen to fall into that second category, you already know the drill better than anyone could explain it to you.
Others have it far worse (or better, depending on how you look at it): they're actually run by an inner soul cat, some feline puppeteer pulling the strings like a bonus character straight out of an Inside...
If you happen to fall into that second category, you already know the drill better than anyone could explain it to you.
There's the never-ending pull toward a 16-hour nap schedule, the relentless and borderline spiritual quest for the one purrfect sunbeam to melt into, and of course, the snacks.
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Others have it far worse (or better, depending on how you look at it): they're actually run by an inner soul cat, some feline puppeteer pulling the strings like a bonus character straight out of an Inside Out sequel. If you happen to fall into that second category, you already know the drill better than anyone could explain it to you. There's the never-ending pull toward a 16-hour nap schedule, the relentless and borderline spiritual quest for the one purrfect sunbeam to melt into, and of course, the snacks.
It's your inner cat pacing the room for no reason, curling up mid-thought for an impromptu nap, and swatting whatever important thing you were trying to remember clean off the mental counter, purely because it felt like it in the moment.
it's your inner cat, narrating your every move. Chaotic, a little unhinged, and completely unbothered by the consequences. Just as we mentioned, being a cat person comes in two flavors.
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