Shakespeare’s 76th Sonnet

Two cats, both alike in laziness,

in a comfy catbed, where we lay our scene.

From ancient worship to household pet,

where civil life makes civil cats ill at ease.

From forth the fatal claws of these felines,

a pair of star-crossed cutmarks appear atwixt the face

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their clawing end their master’s advances.

Leave it to the Bard of Avon to capture the duplicitous and contrary nature of the cat. Here we see Real Life Lady’s cats peacefully asleep in their bed. OR ARE THEY? (Protip: They aren’t.) Cats don’t sleep, they only plan. Why would you need to sleep when you just laze about all day? What appears to be two snug as a bug in a rug cat-friends could actually be a meeting of the minds, planning how early to awake their master come next morn. Or they could be plotting to eat a bunch of grass the next day so they can throw it up all over the freshly laundered clothes that  just need to be put away. We here at Cat Texts alerted Real Life Lady to this potential danger and the words of the Bard, but she merely responded to our entreaties with an enigmatic “:)”.