The cat and the glass room

Spring returns; birds chirping, wildflowers blooming. I reclaim my throne: A gigantic cat tree in the glass room, a recent gift from my main human. I watch wildlife for hours, blinking only to nap between bird songs. Beyond the glass, my second human scratches at my sleeping pad, “a laptop,” she insists, filling it with nonsense. I supervise, of course.

A well-timed stare corrects her errors. Evening drapes itself over the yard: Birds quiet. I curl tighter, satisfied. Tomorrow, we’ll repeat: Sun, birds, sleep, the delicate management of my second human’s work. Everything is as it should be, PURRfectly balanced.