Jaspie’s Daily Chaos Audit

Jaspie the cat believed the world was a beta release with too many bugs and not enough snacks.

At 5:47 a.m. he sprang onto the human’s chest, stared into their soul,

and issued The Scream: a noise like a haunted accordion demanding breakfast. After eating,

he inspected the house for violations. Closed doors? Unacceptable. Open doors?

Suspicious. Half-open doors? Personal insults. He parked himself in the doorway to

enforce cat law. Midday meant Box Research. If a box existed, Jaspie entered it,

even if physics cried. Whiskers inside? Victory. Then the Red Dot

appeared—his sworn nemesis. Jaspie chased it across walls, skidded on rugs,