Marla Is Not Amused That Im Working from Home Today but Not Petting Her.

Marla’s Work-From-Home Protest

Marla sits regally on the desk, her golden eyes fixed in a withering stare that could melt keyboards. Every slow blink broadcasts her displeasure at this clear violation of feline-human contracts. The work laptop may be open, but according to Marla’s law, typing fingers should be deployed exclusively for chin scratches and ear rubs.

Her tail flicks like a metronome counting down my remaining chances to correct this injustice. The message is unmistakable, in meetings may be scheduled in Outlook, but priority appointments exist in purr-formance reviews. As papers slide off the desk with suspiciously precise paw movements, I realize resistance is futile. The workday will proceed on Marla Standard Time, with mandatory cuddle breaks every fifteen minutes.