My actual ideal life really is that of a very spoiled housecat.
Fed and watered every day.
Get cleaned up after and I never have to lift a finger.
Always napping. This is expected of me.
Unlike dogs, get treats for no reason other than innate cuteness. No effort or tricks required.
Won’t get yelled at for shedding.
Can play with toys even as a grown adult without being questioned.
Nocturnal nighttime activities seen as normal.
Self-defense system naturally installed in every fingertip by default.
Allowed to hide from strangers.
Never forced to leave the house for responsibilities.
Cannot be made to exercise without my own willing participation, which is never.
Free personalized necklace.
Lots of merchandise of myself available for purchase.
Can choose the option of filming myself doing absolutely fuck all to get YouTube Gold for effortless pocket money.
Cardboard boxes cheaper than human anxiety medication.
Human whining = annoying. Cat meowing = endearing.
Thievery of small food bits and similar domestic crimes written off as unavoidable racial trait instead of personal failing, avoid criticism.
May be carried around sometimes.
Cute from every angle, no bad photos.
Anxiety/panic attacks and yowling outbursts understood.
Don’t have to live very long, existential suffering minimal.
Guaranteed forgiven and beloved even if sometimes fucked up.
The only real con is that you might get a stupid infantile name, more than likely food-based, but I already have a stupid infantile food-based name so I’m 100% ready to go full ‘Disney Protagonist Of Color Gets Turned Into An Animal For No Reason For 85-90% Of The Movie’ but then never turn back human. I don’t know what I have to do to deserve getting transmogrified into a cat but I’ll do it. I’m ready.
gracieabrams
vaporwave
titsay
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
kianamaiart
areudirty
tangentwithtanner
gummygunk
