The Absurdity of Feline Wall-Dwelling & My Subsequent Rage
Seriously? A cat. In a wall. For two weeks. Are we living in a sitcom now? Because if so, I demand residuals. Two weeks! Thats not a minor mishap, that’s an extended vacation for Mr. Whiskers (or whatever ridiculously precious name the owners gave him). Two weeks of nibbling on dust bunnies and contemplating the architectural choices of their house.
And the owners? Don’t even get me started. “Heartbroken,” they claim. Relieved. Theyre probably relieved they didnt have to actually, you know, deal with the situation properly in the first place. Did they check behind the fridge? Under the sofa? I bet they just assumed he wandered off to join a roving band of alley cats plotting world domination!
Honestly, it’s these kinds of stories that make me question humanity. We build houses – elaborate, complex structures designed for living – and yet our furry companions apparently find them to be sprawling obstacle courses leading to secret, dusty compartments. And the expense! The poor homeowner probably had to pay a contractor to dismantle drywall. Drywall! Because a cat decided it was a better option than the perfectly good, sun-drenched window sill.
I’m pretty sure Ive lost faith in everything today. Everything.
