The Furry Lobbyist

I have come to the conclusion that my cat, Barnaby, is actually a high-powered political consultant in a fuzzy suit. Every evening, while I try to watch the news, he sits right in front of the TV, staring intently at the pundits with a judgmental squint that I haven't seen since my last high school reunion.

I asked him his stance on local infrastructure, and he promptly knocked a glass of water off the side table. I assume this was his way of saying he favors a more fluid approach to city planning. His campaign platform is surprisingly focused: it centers entirely on the immediate deregulation of treat access and the establishment of a nap-based economy. Honestly? I might vote for him. He has better hair than most congresspeople, and he never interrupts me during dinner unless he's demanding a slice of cheese.

Ultimately, I think we could all learn a lot from Barnaby. If we all approached political disagreements by simply falling asleep in a sunbeam until the problem went away, the world might be a much calmer place. Just don't let him near your tax returns—he thinks receipts are just delicious, crunchy snacks.