14/11/2025
It’s exactly 8:00 AM — the alarm hasn’t even finished its first beep — and suddenly there’s a paw on my cheek.
Not a gentle one.
The “get up, human, we have responsibilities” kind of paw.
I open my eyes to see him staring at me like a disappointed manager.
Before I can speak, he hops off the bed and trots straight to the kitchen, tail high, glancing back every three steps to make sure I’m following.
The kettle clicks on.
My eyes are still half closed.
And he’s already sitting by the counter like:
“Coffee for you. Breakfast for me. Let’s keep it professional.”
As I pour my first cup, he nudges my leg — not for food, but because he insists on being part of the morning routine.
We sit by the window together, me with my coffee, him with his outside-bird-surveillance stance.
And just like that, the day feels lighter.
Because nothing says “Good morning, Britain” like a hot brew and a bossy little cat making sure you start the day properly.
