By the time my humans believe the house has settled for the night, my real work begins.

At precisely the moment they switch off the lights and whisper, “Goodnight,” I commence the final inspection of my kingdom.

The female human turns over exactly seven times before accepting that I have already selected the best part of the bed.

The male human continues to insist that the duvet belongs equally to everyone. This is an ambitious theory, unsupported by either history or current practice.

Both humans appear convinced that I spend the night sleeping.

This is adorable.

In reality, I conduct routine patrols of every room, inspect the water bowl for quality assurance, verify that no suspicious insects have entered the premises, and ensure every window remains exactly as it was when I checked it fifteen minutes earlier.

Around three o’clock I also perform a silent observation exercise by sitting beside the bed and gazing thoughtfully at whichever human appears least prepared for unexpected eye contact.

There is no need to wake them.

It is simply important that they know they are being monitored.

At approximately four-thirty I conclude that breakfast is now a matter of strategic importance rather than chronology.

The humans may refer to this as “far too early.”

I prefer to call it proactive meal planning.

Overall assessment of the night shift:

Security: Excellent.

Blanket ownership: Successfully maintained.

Human awareness: Requires further training.

Breakfast punctuality: Deeply disappointing.

Another productive evening in the service of my household.

Yours,

Mrs. Cotton 🐱🐾