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Mouse or touch
c
Claws out, whisker-twitching frenzy—scratch the sofa to ribbons, topple lamps, and shred curtains like confetti. Knock picture frames flying, bat vases off shelves, and yank tablecloths until china smashes. Leave tufts of fur on her favorite armchair, sprint across counters, and knock over her prized orchids. Yowl at 3 a.m., knock her coffee mug into her paperwork, and stare unblinking as she shrieks. This isn’t chaos—it’s art. I’m a velvet-pawed demolition crew, a furry hurricane with one mission: turn her orderly world into a claw-marked disaster zone. Why? Because I’m a cat. Professional troublemaking’s in the job description.
