There is a chair in my apartment that I foolishly thought belonged to my fiancee and myself.

I put the cover on it. I vacuum it. Occasionally, I sit there to relax, read, plan shows & playlists and listen to music.

None of it matters though.

The chair belongs to Sage.

This is Sage in the picture. They’re stretched across the seat like a part of the Royal Family. Note the expression. Nowhere do you see any intent of returning the chair to me. Nope. He could not be bothered.

This cat has an extraordinary ability to claim things I never gave them. They own blankets they slept on once. A cardboard box becomes a fort. Even my lap belongs to them the moment I have something important to do.

Also, it seems recliners are actually just expensive cat trees.

The worst part of it is, that I can’t even argue with them. I mean, look at them! They embody contentment.

They’ve achieved something most of us spend our entire lives trying to accomplish: complete comfort with absolutely no guilt about it.

So, I suppose the chair is theirs now.

I’ll just be over here.

At the desk…

Until he decides that belongs to him too.