Meet Siri: The Cat, Not the Assistant

I've always wanted a British Shorthair—those chubby-cheeked, round-eyed, permanently unimpressed cats that look like they secretly run the world. So when Christmas 2022 rolled around, I gifted myself the sassiest silver gradient British Shorthair I could find. Her name? Siri.

Yes. Like the iPhone assistant. I thought it was hilarious at the time.

It was hilarious... until I realized I’d created a chaotic feedback loop where my phone would wake up every time I called my cat, and my cat would show up every time I tried to talk to my phone. "Hey Siri" is now officially banned in my house unless I want both to appear and stare at me, equally confused.

Siri the Cat is... vocal. She believes in the power of dialogue. If you forget about her morning snacks, she'll be meowing in response furiously. She also has a weird obsession with cakes and egg tarts. I don’t encourage it, but I’m also not strong enough to say no to that face.

She’s shy around strangers—unless you're my friend's mom. The first time she visited, Siri marched up to her like they were long-lost soulmates. Everyone else gets ghosted. If Siri doesn’t vibe with you, you’ll probably never see her. She will hide under the bed until you're gone and maybe 30 minutes after that, just to be safe.

And yes, she knows how to shake hands. She’s very refined like that. Post-vet visits? She turns into a shadow, sneaking under my blanket in the middle of the night like a tiny, judgmental ninja. And let’s not forget her bedtime ritual—she carries her favorite toy (a star plushie she ripped off a cat tree, because why not) onto the bed like it’s her emotional support star.

But most days, she can be found in her throne: a window sill bed I set up just for her. She naps there, surveys her kingdom, argues with the birds, and contemplates the meaning of life... or how to get more freezed dried snacks.

Siri may share a name with a voice assistant, but she’s one of a kind. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.