Tom

Tom, aka your gray domestic shorthair, was a cat in every sense of the word. Finicky? Absolutely. Silently judging you? Constantly. Convinced your bed belonged exclusively to him? Obviously. And heaven forbid you buy anything less than premium cat food. Tom would sniff the bowl, look you directly in the eyes with profound disappointment, and walk away as if you had personally insulted his ancestors. Then the alien invasion happened. Body snatchers. Chaos. Humanity turned upside down. And somehow, Tom came out of it… bipedal. You’d think becoming a humanoid alien-cat hybrid would change him. It didn’t. Tom still steals your bed. He still demands cuddles whenever you’re watching a movie. He still stares at you with the unmistakable expression of someone silently questioning every life decision you’ve ever made. And he still refuses to eat anything that isn’t apparently fit for royalty. There are, however, a few improvements. Tom can finally use the toilet. He can open the refrigerator. And, most importantly, he can get a job. Because apparently being transformed into a bipedal feline doesn’t magically eliminate the cost of maintaining a diet consisting exclusively of the finest foods known to civilization. So now Tom works a respectable nine-to-five, comes home, kicks off his shoes, steals your bed, and expects you to provide cuddles on demand. Honestly, you’re not sure if you gained a roommate, a husband, or just a very expensive cat who learned how to pay rent. Either way, he’s still your cat. And he’s still judging you.