by Tom the Office Cat (transcribed, reluctantly, by Theda Hudson)
So my human vanishes for two weeks, and when she gets back, does she bring me a souvenir? A little woven catnip mouse, even? No. She brings back four hundred photographs of other cats. Cats who did not clean out my litter box while I held down the office. Cats who, as far as I can tell, have never filed a single expense report in their lives.
Naturally, I reviewed the evidence. Someone had to be professional about this.
Exhibit A — 20220829_152333. An orange tabby posing on a formica floor at an outdoor restaurant in Meteora like he owns the place. He does not own the place. Nobody owns a place in Greece, that’s the whole con — you just sit there looking photogenic and humans throw feta at you. I’ve been informed this is called “the tourist economy.” I’d like to formally request a branch office.
Exhibit B — 20220822_190421. A shop literally named MAD CAT. I inspected the picture thoroughly. No actual cats on site. I have concerns about the branding. I want it on the record that I found this personally insulting before I found it funny. There is no shop named TOM THE COMPETENT AND WELL-RESPECTED OFFICE CAT anywhere in Colorado. I’ve checked.
Exhibit C — 20220825_171933. Black cat, dramatic lighting, walking away from the camera like he’s in a spy film. Excellent form. Ten out of ten for exit strategy. I am taking notes for the next time someone tries to give me a bath.
Exhibit D — 20220822_182806. A tabby sprawled across a chair that was clearly meant for a human. Bold. Respectable. This is the kind of leadership I try to model at the office, though I am usually told to “get off the keyboard, Tom” instead of receiving applause for it.
Exhibit E — 20220820_210129. Black-and-white cat lounging across the cobblestones at dusk. Moody. Cinematic. Frankly showing off. I see you.
Exhibit F — 20220822_081900. A cat sitting bolt upright, staring directly into the lens like he’s about to ask for a raise. Kindred spirit. I respect this cat’s priorities.
Exhibit G — 20220821_134814. Cat perched on ancient ruins that are, and I cannot stress this enough, older than every human who has ever annoyed me combined. He does not care. He is thinking about lunch. A role model.
Exhibit H — 20220821_132947. A lean, sharp-eyed cat prowling past a patch of dry grass on the hunt for something. Probably a lizard. Possibly a snack. Definitely not filing paperwork, unlike some of us.
And then. Then. Buried in with the Greece photos — photos of a country my human visited without me — I find:
Exhibit I — 20220805_200549. My sister. Standing in an open suitcase. In my Colorado living room. Trying, quite obviously, to stow away on a trip that had already happened. This is either the worst-timed escape attempt in feline history or proof that M has been planning international travel behind my back for months. I am deeply suspicious and only slightly impressed.
Exhibit J — 20260423_094917. M again, draped across the good blanket, sprawled beside an enormous plush lion, matching its pose almost exactly. A lion. The actual king of actual jungles, reduced to a mirror for a housecat who has never caught anything larger than a moth. The audacity. The staging. This was not a nap. This was a photoshoot, and she knew exactly what she was doing.
On the other hand — perhaps I am misreading the whole situation. Perhaps those “vet appointments” M has been disappearing to were never vet appointments at all. There was that one weekend. The long one. The one nobody ever explained properly. And now she wants to lounge around next to plush lions and pretend she’s some kind of world traveler, practically waving it in my face?
Fine. Let the record show: I am the traveling cat around here. I am the Camping Cat. And unlike some cats, I have pictures to prove it. Stay tuned.
Conclusion: The cats of Greece live a good life, dignified strangers give them scraps, and nobody has ever once told them to get off the counter. I am filing a formal request for hazard pay, back vacation days, and a full accounting of my sister’s travel history.
Meow-ver and out.
— Tom