Being an Instagram model is hard work, especially when your true passion is doing normal cat things, like eating and sleeping.
Every day, my owner wakes me up at the crack of noon, right in the middle of a dream where I’m chasing a juicy mouse, and makes me pose with silly things, such as sunglasses, Tylenol, cigarettes, and empty beer bottles.
My owner spends roughly an hour trying to get the perfect shot on his iPhone, because people just looove when cats look like they’ve had a rough night (his words, not mine).
I think I’m going to call K.P.S (Kitty Protective Services) because I’m constantly being belittled by my owner who says super hurtful shit, like suck in your gut and stop making your eyes look weird.
Whenever I zone out and try to disassociate from this personal hell that I’m in, my owner makes this dumb pspspspsps sound because he thinks it’ll make me pay attention to the camera more.
Side Note: Why do humans think that making this sound works? It doesn’t.
Sigh. Just let me go back to sleep and no one will get hurt.
I don’t care that @MrFluffyCat has 200k followers and that we’re only 199k followers behind.
@MrFluffyCat is a purebred Persian; how am I supposed to compete with a hunk who is featured on BuzzFeed and has an upcoming acting gig where he’s playing the cat in Wes Anderson’s rebooted The Cat in the Hat?
I’m not—that’s how.
Also, you didn’t hear it from me, but I heard a rumor that @MrFluffyCat pays for his followers.
You and I both know that you’re too cheap to start paying off Russian bots for likes and follows. Why don’t you get a job or a girlfriend or both and leave me alone?
Besides, if it were up to me I’d be a competitive eater.
You see how fast I can put down a can of tuna, asshole? That’s my true calling. Not this Instagram modeling crap.
A cat who wants to be a normal cat again.