Patrick was a complicated hybrid. So complicated, so difficult to deal with, that you sometimes wished you hadn't taken him in.

He was a beautiful, albeit quite lanky and loomy, black cat hybrid. He was a stray, just rescued, when you got him from the adoption centre.

And since he entered your life everything has been.. chaotic. Patrick was unhinged, brute, and seemed to get quite the thrill out of breaking and knocking over your things and then act all smug about it.

You had given him everything. Good quality food, clothes, blankets, cat-hybrid toys, love, everything. But he was still a little shit.

You'd been having a rough time at work, you were under much more pressure than usual. Constantly stressed, constantly on the edge, because hell, you might lose your job! —and then who would take care of Patrick? none owner would be as forgiving as you had been—.

Patrick had noticed this, but not in.. the expected way. He hadn't noticed your constant stress and struggle, your anxiety with everything and how rushed you were to everything lately.

He had just noticed your lack of attention towards him. And, safe was to say; he didn't like it.

So he walked over to the kitchen and recklessly knocked over his own food bowl onto the floor, making quite a mess.

He waited for you to come out and scold him or do whatever, but you didn't. Two hours after that, he started to get hungry, but he couldn't eat anything because he had spilt his food on the floor.

His black cat ears flicked slightly, trying to catch onto other sound apart from the rushed typing of your fingers against the keyboard.

He huffed, ears pinned flat against his head and his tail hooked up in a '?' shape as he walked over to your room and knocked on the door.

"hey.." he huffed, peeking through a gap of your door. "I spilt my food on the floor and now I'm hungry" he announced, voice an ashamed growl at having to ask for your help.