In a developing story out of Chicago, IL, local 28-year-old Maya Rierson has slowly come to the realization that everything in her apartment has been strategically designed around her cat’s happiness.
“The other night I went to use the bathroom and I tripped over a cardboard box that was in the middle of the hallway,” Maya told reporters. “That box had been there for two years. That’s when I first realized that my design decisions were based primarily around my cat, Delilah.”
Maya added that making aesthetic concessions is just part of the deal when you live with a cat.
“I mean, do I love that she’ll only use the litter box if it’s situated directly next to the dining room table where I eat all my meals? No! But she does, so that’s the end of that discussion.”
Maya told reporters that she’s been wanting to get a new couch for about five years, but has refrained due to her cat’s preferences.
“That’s her scratching couch,” she said, indicating to the shredded mass of fabric shoved against the wall of her living room. “I could never take that away from her.”
Maya admitted that the couch is virtually unusable and that she usually watches her shows from the floor.
“It’s super comfy down there, because that’s where Delilah likes to keep all her plush mice and taco stuffies. If I pile them all up, it’s just as good as a regular couch. I can’t complain.”
Her words were chipper, but reporters found that her shadowed eyes told an entirely different story.
“It’s Delilah’s way or the highway!” she added, unprompted, her eyes darting around her apartment in undiluted fear.
Other household items that Maya has designed around her cats include: her dining room chairs, the suitcases she’s forced to leave perpetually open on her floor, and even the art she chooses to hang on the walls.
“Delilah is a huge fan of postmodernism, while I’m more into contemporary art. We’ve compromised and decorated the whole place with postmodern prints. Big red squares and shit,” Maya said, her eye visibly twitching.
In terms of sleeping arrangements, Maya said, nine nights out of ten, Delilah gets the bed, and she takes wherever bothers Delilah the least.
“On a good day, Delilah will let me sleep at the foot of the bed,” Maya said. “That happens about three times a year.”
As of press time, it had become clear that Maya was in a toxic, one-sided relationship with her cat. However, reporters never got a chance to tell her that because, at that moment, Delilah appeared, pinned them with her glowing yellow stare, and they suddenly felt compelled to leave, as if by Satan himself.
