The Cat’s Night Shift

Last night, I woke up at 3 a.m. and saw my cat sitting on my chest, just staring at me like a tiny, judgmental supervisor.

I whispered, “What are you doing?”

He blinked slowly… then knocked my phone off the nightstand.

I sighed. “Seriously?”

He jumped down, walked to the kitchen, and looked back like, “Follow me.”

Half asleep, I did.

He sat by his empty bowl.

I filled it.

He sniffed it… then walked away.

I said, “You woke me up for THIS?!”

He turned, gave me that look again, and casually knocked a glass off the counter.

It shattered.

Then he walked past me like, “That’s on you.”

I stood there in silence while he went back to bed.

And that’s when I realized—

I don’t own a cat.

I work for one.