Pop a tab and your feline appears like it heard a summoning bell. Nose boops the can, ears flick at the fizz, and suddenly you’ve got a tiny beverage auditor inspecting your pawla cola. Cats prefer dignified stillness in their water bowls, but “spicy water” is great theatre. The straw is a wiggly snake, the tab is a miniature cymbal, and the can instantly becomes a percussion instrument for midnight mewsic. One whiff and the verdict is dramatic: too many bubbles for delicate whiskers, but excellent for supervising.
Then comes the performance art. A micro-spritz lands on a whisker and the cat executes a full-body offended shimmy. Tongue blep. Tail poof. The look says you just served Meowntain Doom instead of a proper vintage from the sink. They won’t drink it, of course, but they will park directly in the condensation ring and stamp toe-bean watermarks across the nearest keyboard for archival purposes.
In the end, the Fizz Committee agrees: soda is entertainment, not beverage. The case it arrived in is prime real estate, the can is a drum, and the hooman’s job is refilling the world’s finest drink. Fresh, quiet, majestic water.
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