It’s hard work being a cat. Life’s not all gourmet wet food and trips to the spa, though there is a lot of that, but that’s not the point. No, Kit’s days are spent looking after her human, and though it’s a big responsibility to care for another creature, it’s one she knew she was ready for when she chose Kent. He’s a good human; in addition to the food and grooming, he provides her with excellent ear scritches and cardboard boxes for sitting.
In return, Kit looks after him. The sun is shining through the windows but Kent isn’t up yet. Kit investigates, notices his phone unplugged from the charger, dead, with no alarm to wake up. So Kit hops up on the bed, sits on Kent’s face until he sputters and sits up.
“Kit, what the fuck?” He pulls some fur from his mouth, notices the orange sky, panics. “Oh shit.” He checks his dead phone. “Oh fuck.” He throws himself out of the bed, racing around the room for clothes.
Now that he’s got his ass in gear, Kit pads to her food bowl, meowing her command for breakfast. Kent hops into the kitchen, shoving a sock on one foot, his shirt on backwards, and dumps her food in for her. He looks like he’s going to leave, but he hasn’t had breakfast yet. While he sorts through the living room for his car keys, Kit hops onto the counter, meows again. Her ungrateful human ignores her. Demanding his attention now, she knocks the nearest glass onto the floor with a loud shatter.
“What’s wrong with you?” He carefully steps over the shards to get the dustpan and broom. As he wipes away the mess, Kit keeps her paw helpfully on the fruit bowl, waiting for him to notice. Almost without realizing it, he grabs an apple and a banana, shoving them in his duffel bag.
Satisfied, she hops back down to her own breakfast, eating contentedly as Kent leaves in a flurry of swears and stomping shoes. It’s thankless work, looking after a human, but as chews on her turkey and chicken meal, she congratulates herself on being a responsible owner.