02/28/2026
The Tax Inspector
Arthur had a system. Every February, he cleared the dining room table, sharpened his favorite yellow pencil, and prepared to do battle with his taxes. He had the calculator, the receipts, and a firm determination to find every possible deduction.
However, he had forgotten to account for Marmalade.
Marmalade did not believe in "personal space," especially when that space involved a flat surface and a captive audience. Just as Arthur was about to calculate line 12b, Marmalade performed a tactical "flop-and-lock" maneuver.
"Marmalade, I am trying to figure out if we can afford the premium tuna this year," Arthur sighed, his pencil hovering inches from the cat's ginger-striped flank.
Marmalade responded by stretching a heavy, white-socked paw directly over Arthur's forearm, pinning his writing hand to the table. He leaned his head back, looking Arthur directly in the eye with a gaze that said, “The only deduction you need to worry about is the time you're spending not scratching my ears.”
Arthur tried to write around him, but Marmalade was a master of the "living paperweight" technique. Every time the pencil moved, a fluffy tail flicked across the ledger. Eventually, Arthur gave up. He put the pencil down and used both hands to scruff the cat's neck.
Marmalade purred loudly, satisfied. He might not be great at math, but when it came to auditing his human's attention, he never missed a cent.