Mochi Moments: The Existential Crisis of a Superior Feline

Dear Humans,

It is I, Mochi, Supreme Ruler of This Household, esteemed philosopher, professional napper, and unchallenged overlord of the apartment.

Today, I come to you with an urgent matter—one that shakes the very foundation of my well-curated feline existence. You see, while my human spirals into existential dread over deadlines, responsibilities, and the perpetual mystery of why she can’t just "relax," I, too, face my own struggles.

You think life as a cat is all luxury naps and belly rubs? Ha!

My days are filled with betrayal, injustice, and an unrelenting series of inconveniences, all inflicted upon me by the very being who claims to "love" me. The audacity.

🐾 The Betrayal of “Exciting Plans”

Every night, my human perches on the couch, scrolling through her phone, lying to herself with outrageous optimism:

"Maybe I’ll be social this weekend."
"Maybe I’ll actually leave the house."
"Maybe I’ll be a spontaneous, adventurous person."

She won’t.

And yet, she dares to judge me for my own version of this ritual.

Every morning, I position myself by the window, tail twitching, eyes locked onto the birds outside. I exude the aura of a creature born for adventure.

I make it abundantly clear: I, Mochi, must explore the outside world.

So, my human, being an accommodating (if slightly incompetent) servant, opens the door for me.

And what do I do?

I panic.

The outside is too vast. Too unpredictable. Too much.

So I follow a simple, yet effective, crisis protocol:
❤Freeze completely.
❤Sniff the air with exaggerated caution.
❤Flee dramatically back inside, appalled by my own decisions.

And my human has the nerve to say, "Mochi, you’re so weird."

Me?

Look in the mirror, peasant.

🐾 Productivity Guilt vs. The Sacred Art of Doing Absolutely Nothing

My human has a tragic, self-imposed affliction: she cannot simply exist.

If she rests, she feels guilty.
If she works too much, she feels overwhelmed.
If she takes a break, she immediately starts making a mental to-do list.

It is exhausting to watch.

Now, I personally do not suffer from such afflictions.

If I wish to sleep for 16 consecutive hours, I will.
If I wish to stare blankly at a wall, I shall.
If I wish to knock a glass of water off the counter just to watch it shatter, who will stop me?

However…

Even I am not immune to the bizarre urge to feel "useful."

Sometimes, as I hear my human droning on about "projects," "goals," and "making something of her life," I find myself questioning…

What have I accomplished today?

❤Knocked a pen off the table. (A time-honored feline tradition.)
❤Sat in a box slightly too small for my body. (A revolutionary statement on personal space.)
❤Disrupted a Zoom call by walking across my human’s keyboard. (My greatest contribution to society.)

But then, a dark thought creeps in:

"Mochi… shouldn’t you be doing something important?"

And so, I act.

I walk directly onto my human’s laptop, sit on the keyboard, and turn off her screen.

Yes.

That is my contribution to productivity today.

You’re welcome.

🐾 The Absolute Scam That is Scheduled Meals

Ah, the great injustice of meal schedules.

My human—bless her simple, foolish heart—has a rigid, structured system for food.

Breakfast at a designated hour.
Lunch at a socially acceptable time.
Dinner after some imaginary “appropriate waiting period.”

Disgusting.

Meanwhile, I, a free spirit, require food at all hours.

And yet, every time I declare my hunger (loudly and repeatedly, might I add), I am met with resistance.

"Mochi, you just ate."

So?

What does that have to do with my current state of hunger?

Humans act as if eating multiple times a day is somehow unreasonable. They do not understand the feline right to unlimited snacking.

In response, I escalate my protest tactics:
✔ Step 1: Meow dramatically at my empty food bowl.
✔ Step 2: Swat objects off tables until I am acknowledged.
✔ Step 3: Stare at my human with unblinking intensity until she fears for her safety.

Yet, I remain ignored.

Someday, I shall write a manifesto on this oppression.

🐾 The Urge to Do Something Completely Unhinged for No Reason

My human is incapable of sitting still.

She will declare "I’m going to relax today," then immediately:
❤Open a book, read two pages, and put it down.
❤Start a movie, pause it after seven minutes, and start reorganizing her closet.
❤Sit down for a peaceful evening, then somehow end up Googling the entire history of Ancient Rome.

Chaotic.

And yet…

I, too, suffer from an equally bizarre affliction.

Sometimes, as I am curled up in my sunspot, basking in golden warmth, teetering on the edge of blissful sleep…

I feel it. The Urge. The undeniable, inescapable feeling that I must, at this very moment, sprint full speed across the apartment.

No destination. No purpose. No logic.

Just pure, unhinged movement.

I launch myself into action, my paws skidding across the floor, knocking over at least two objects in the process.

My human watches, bewildered.

"Mochi… why?"

I do not have an answer.

But I feel this is the feline equivalent of humans suddenly deciding to start a side hustle at 2 AM for no reason.

🐾 We Are Not So Different, You and I

So, my dear human, while you grapple with your Friday night existential crises, your inability to relax, and your self-imposed chaos…

Know that I, too, am fighting my own battles.

And while you ponder your life choices, I will be sitting in a cardboard box, contemplating why I just ran full speed into the wall.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go sit in the bathroom sink and stare at nothing for 45 minutes.

- Mochi, Supreme Ruler of the Apartment

Tell me: What’s the weirdest thing your pet does? Drop it in the comments and let’s discuss the absolute chaos of our existence.