A private moment? Never heard of it.
Back Before the Ban
Before the bedroom ban, I could launch myself onto the human’s chest at sunrise and demand breakfast. I did it plenty of times. The element of surprise was mine, and he never stood a chance.
Crying on Deaf Ears
Now the door stays closed, the fan drowns me out, and I’m stuck meowing to nobody. By 9:30, hunger had me cornered. I met him at the door, claws tapping the floor, voice sharp enough to cut glass. Hurry up. Let’s go. Move it, buster.
Dressing Room Delay
Instead of the kitchen, he made a detour — bathroom, then back to the bedroom. I shadowed him the whole time, yelling like a foreman on a slow job site. He smirked, like my suffering was comedy.
Four Minutes of Torture
At last, we reached the kitchen. I expected the can opener. Instead, he carried my bowl to the sink. Hot water. Soap. Towels. A spoon. Four eternal minutes of delay. The gourmet prize dangled in front of me, just out of reach.
Case Closed, For Now
In the end, breakfast landed in my bowl. Victory was mine, but the human got his laughs. He thinks this is a game. Maybe it is — but tomorrow I’ll turn up the pressure.
—Luna 🐾
