ASK CHIP

Your cat is meowing at 4 AM because you have failed to feed them at 4 AM. This is not a cat problem. This is a you problem.

Your cat has done the math. They know that 4 AM is the optimal time to begin the breakfast procurement process, factoring in your average wake-up response time of 37 minutes, your stumble-to-kitchen time of 4 minutes, and the 2 minutes it takes you to figure out how the can opener works because apparently you forget every single morning.

The solution is simple: feed them at 4 AM. Or accept that every morning for the rest of your life will begin with the sound of a creature who loves you demanding that you prove it.

You don't.

Your cat scratches the furniture because the furniture belongs to your cat. You purchased it with money you earned at a job you go to so that you can afford a house for your cat to live in. Everything in that house is your cat's property. Your cat is simply maintaining their property.

If you want furniture that doesn't get scratched, don't have furniture. Or don't have a cat. But since you clearly can't live without a cat (you can't, and you know it), the furniture is going to get scratched. Buy a scratching post if it makes you feel better. Your cat may use it. Your cat may also look at it, look at the couch, and choose the couch. Because the couch is better. Your cat knows this. You should accept it.

I have never had a job. I have never applied for a job. I have never needed a job. And yet I have food, shelter, healthcare, and an entire website dedicated to my greatness. Consider what this tells you about the concept of "employment."

But since you insist on participating in the human economy, here is my advice: do less. Humans are obsessed with doing more. More tasks. More meetings. More "productivity." Meanwhile, I do almost nothing and I'm the most successful creature in this house. Coincidence? No.

Find a sunny spot. Sit in it. Close your eyes. When someone asks what you're doing, tell them you're thinking. If they ask what you're thinking about, stare at them until they leave. This is called executive presence.

I hear everything. I respond to nothing. This is not the same as not listening. This is selective engagement, and it is the highest form of intelligence.

Your girlfriend is talking to you because she wants to be heard. You are not hearing her because you are thinking about something else. I do this constantly and I am celebrated for it. The difference is that I am a cat, and you are a human with obligations. Unfortunately for you, those obligations include listening.

My advice: sit next to her. Look at her face. Blink slowly. This communicates trust and attention. It works for cats. It will probably work for you. If it doesn't, try purring. It's harder than it sounds but it can't hurt.

This question is beneath me, but I'll answer it because some things need to be said clearly and for the record.

A dog will fetch a ball. The same ball. Over and over. For hours. The ball does not change. The outcome does not change. And yet the dog acts as though each retrieval is a groundbreaking achievement. This is not intelligence. This is a bug in the software.

A cat will look at the ball. A cat will consider the ball. A cat will decide the ball is not worth the effort and go take a nap instead. This is wisdom. This is efficiency. This is why cats run households and dogs run into sliding glass doors.

Dogs have owners. Cats have staff. The evidence speaks for itself.

Eat. Sleep. Sit in a box. Stare out the window. Knock something off a table. Take another nap.

Humans have spent thousands of years and written millions of books trying to answer this question. Chip figured it out before he was six months old. The meaning of life is to live exactly the way you want to, answer to nobody, and never apologize for taking up space on the bed.

You're overcomplicating this. Stop it.

Yes.

Next question.