Every morning, Choi wakes me up with a very decisive “meow,” which I’ve learned isn’t so much a greeting as it is a reminder that breakfast is late—again. He’s a stickler for routine: same bowl, same mat, same timing. If I’m even five minutes behind schedule, he’ll sit in front of me with that look of silent judgment that says, “We agreed on 7:30, human.”

Afternoons are his sacred sunbathing hours. Choi finds the perfect spot where the sunlight hits the floor at the exact right angle—as if he’s been studying geometry all his life. Every time I try to take a photo, he strikes a pose like he’s on the cover of Vogue: Feline Edition. When I post his photos online, people comment things like, “Is this a cat or a Russian aristocrat?” Honestly, I’m not always sure myself.

But come nighttime, my royal turns into a secret agent. He patrols the house with suspicious dedication, occasionally “accidentally” knocking something off a shelf. When I come running, he’s already sitting innocently nearby, pretending to inspect the floor like, “Huh, wonder who did that.” Every time I try to scold him, he rolls over, purrs, and melts my anger in two seconds flat.

Life with Choi has made my home feel more alive. He’s taught me to slow down, to laugh at small things, and to find comfort in quiet company. Some nights, as I listen to his soft little snores beside my pillow, I realize that happiness can be as simple as sharing a moment with a tiny gray creature who thinks he owns the world—and maybe, in a way, he does. 💙

Every morning, Choi wakes me up with a very decisive “meow,” which I’ve learned isn’t so much a greeting as it is a reminder that breakfast is late—again. He’s a stickler for routine: same bowl, same mat, same timing. If I’m even five minutes behind schedule, he’ll sit in front of me with that look of silent judgment that says, “We agreed on 7:30, human.”

Afternoons are his sacred sunbathing hours. Choi finds the perfect spot where the sunlight hits the floor at the exact right angle—as if he’s been studying geometry all his life. Every time I try to take a photo, he strikes a pose like he’s on the cover of Vogue: Feline Edition. When I post his photos online, people comment things like, “Is this a cat or a Russian aristocrat?” Honestly, I’m not always sure myself.

But come nighttime, my royal turns into a secret agent. He patrols the house with suspicious dedication, occasionally “accidentally” knocking something off a shelf. When I come running, he’s already sitting innocently nearby, pretending to inspect the floor like, “Huh, wonder who did that.” Every time I try to scold him, he rolls over, purrs, and melts my anger in two seconds flat.

Life with Choi has made my home feel more alive. He’s taught me to slow down, to laugh at small things, and to find comfort in quiet company. Some nights, as I listen to his soft little snores beside my pillow, I realize that happiness can be as simple as sharing a moment with a tiny gray creature who thinks he owns the world—and maybe, in a way, he does. 💙