A Week with My Cat Muffin – Love, Fur & Late Night Zoomies
This week felt longer than usual. Maybe it was work. Maybe it was the weather. Or maybe... it was just one of those weeks. But through it all, one constant kept me sane — Muffin.
I never thought I'd become a “cat person.” Honestly, I used to be scared of their sudden ninja energy and “I’m the boss” attitude. But then Muffin walked into my life — literally — during a rainy afternoon two years ago. She was a wet fluffball hiding under my car, eyes big, meowing like her life depended on it. I brought her inside, dried her off, gave her some leftover chicken — and just like that, she never left. Or maybe I never wanted her to.
Monday – The Morning Alarm with Whiskers
It all started on Monday. 6:45 a.m., to be exact. I was deep in sleep, dreaming about floating on clouds or eating pizza (probably both), when suddenly, *thud*. Something heavy (but also fluffy) landed on my chest. Muffin.
She meowed once. Then again. Then stuck her paw in my face. That’s her morning ritual — the “Feed Me” symphony. No snooze button works here. So I got up, shuffled to the kitchen with one eye open, and filled her bowl. As soon as I did, she purred like a little engine. That sound? It’s magic. It makes even sleepy Mondays feel like a soft hug.
Tuesday – Sunbeams & Silent Company
On Tuesday, I worked from home. Muffin has her favorite corner — by the big window in the living room. Around noon, the sun hits that spot just right, and she sprawls out like royalty. I snapped a photo of her belly-up, eyes half-closed, looking like she owns the universe. She probably thinks she does.
There’s something calming about working with a cat nearby. She doesn't talk (well, not in English), but her presence is loud in the best way. Every now and then, she’d jump on my desk and walk right across the keyboard. Once she sent a message to my boss that said “asddddddddddddd”. Luckily, my boss is a cat person too.
Wednesday – The Mystery of the Missing Sock
Wednesday night, I couldn’t find one of my socks. I looked everywhere. Under the bed. In the laundry basket. Behind the couch. And then... I saw it. In Muffin’s toy box. Chewed, covered in fur, and looking slightly traumatized.
I don’t know what she does with my socks, but I’ve accepted that they are no longer mine. She hoards them like treasure. Sometimes, when she thinks I’m not watching, she drags one across the room like a hunter showing off her prey. It’s adorable. Weird. But adorable.
Thursday – Zoomies at 2 AM
Thursday night was a classic “cat parent” moment. I was fast asleep when I heard the unmistakable sound of chaos. Muffin was zooming around the apartment like she was in the Olympics. Sprinting down the hallway, bouncing off the couch, and skidding on the hardwood floor like a maniac.
I got up and found her wide-eyed, tail puffed, standing on the kitchen counter like Batman. I have no idea what triggered the madness, but after 15 minutes, she flopped down beside me on the bed like nothing happened. Purring. Again. Like she hadn't just tried to break the sound barrier.
Friday – The Cat Who Judges Me
Friday evening, I had a mini breakdown. Life felt too loud. Work stress. Bills. Just... everything. I sat on the floor, back against the wall, trying not to cry. And then I felt it — a soft paw on my hand. Muffin came over, sat right next to me, and just stayed there. Quiet. Still. Present.
They say cats are aloof, but I don’t believe that anymore. Muffin knows. She senses things. She’s been there for every bad day, every teary moment, every long night. She’s never said a word — but somehow, she always says the right thing.
Saturday – The Lap Queen
Saturday was peaceful. I made tea, played some jazz, and just sat on the couch with a blanket. Muffin jumped up and curled into my lap like she’d been waiting all week for this moment. Her purring matched the beat of the music. Soft, rhythmic, healing.
There’s a strange comfort in holding a cat. It’s like hugging a living pillow with opinions. She stretched once, looked up at me, then went back to sleep. That moment? That was everything. No phone. No emails. Just us.
Sunday – Just Us
And now, it’s Sunday night. She’s asleep beside me while I write this, her tiny paws twitching like she’s dreaming of chasing butterflies or stealing my socks again. The apartment is quiet. The lights are low. And my heart feels full.
Some people think cats are cold. Distant. Not affectionate. But I know better. Muffin might not greet guests with wagging tails or fetch a ball, but she shows love in her own language — with purrs, gentle headbutts, and just being there when it matters most.
I didn’t just adopt a cat. I gained a friend. A little therapist with fur. A daily reminder to slow down, stretch out in the sun, and find joy in simple things — like a warm lap, a good nap, or the sound of a can opening.
Life with Muffin isn’t perfect. There are furballs. Scratched furniture. And the occasional zoomie apocalypse. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Here’s to cats. The quiet healers. The tiny comedians. The companions who walk silently into our lives and leave pawprints all over our hearts.
Note to self: Stock up on her favorite tuna snacks. And maybe… buy new socks.