Try to imagine: You are sleeping. You hear a glass container being pushed to edge of the high bookshelf its on (near your bed night stand). The crash wakes you. There is splattered, dirty fish water EVERYWHERE. (and by everywhere, I mean: in your purse, on the book being lent to you by someone, in your alarm clock, on your sheets, all over your carpet, and near the power strip that controls all your gadgets and near your new $200 phone). That's not the worst of it though. Then, you realize, as you get up and set your feet on the wet ground that there are glass shards EVERYWHERE. (And by everywhere, you know what I mean). So, at this point, you are enraged, and looking for the culprit. The little, asshole feline that decided to disturb your sleeping peace to get a closer look at your rescue fish Named Elie Wiesel. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a quick flash of white, furry cat tail. Once I had gathered all the information together in my brain, I was shaking and worried, and searching for Elie. The poor little guy had been through enough trouble in life, and I was supposed to be the one rescuing him. Finally, I spotted him among the dirty water, glass shards, and rocks from the bottom of the container. He lives!!!! Poor little guy is living up to his name as a famous Holocaust survivor, huh? I hate cats for today. But only for today. Thanks for listening to my morning story folks. I hope yours was better :>