Hi. I’m Pookie. I’m a cat. I live in a house with several humans, including one small, loud, emotionally unstable one named James. He builds things. He cries a lot. He smells like Cheetos and sticky fingers.

Today, James was constructing what he called “the longest car track in the world.” It involved magnetic blocks, tiny cars, and a lot of yelling at gravity. I observed from a distance. I waited. I chose my moment.

When the track reached peak complexity—right as he was connecting the final piece—I walked over and laid down directly in the center. Not hastily. Not accidentally. I did the slow, deliberate loaf. I tucked my paws. I blinked once. I was majestic.

James screamed. He said I “ruined everything.” He tried to lure me away with a half-eaten cheese stick. I did not move. I doubled down. I stretched luxuriously across the entire track. I may have purred.

Now the humans are divided. One says I’m a menace. Another says I’m “just being a cat.” James is still sobbing and calling me “the destroyer of dreams.”

So… AITA for asserting my right to lounge wherever I please, even if it happens to be the epicenter of a toddler’s architectural masterpiece?

EDIT: I have since knocked over a tower of blocks and stolen a sock. I regret nothing.