Listen, I don’t want to cause a family fight, but I just learned my cat has a better credit score than me. That little furball, Mister Pickles, has been hiding a shiny platinum card under the couch. Meanwhile, I can’t even get approved for a gas station rewards card without them laughing me out of the application.
The Discovery
I was digging for the remote (don’t ask) when I found an envelope addressed to “M. Pickles.” I open it, thinking maybe it’s junk mail. Nope. It’s a statement showing 42,000 reward points and a cash-back bonus that could pay my bar tab for a week. My own statement usually just says, “Please stop.”
The Spending Habits
Apparently my cat has been racking up points on premium tuna, Amazon boxes, and subscriptions to something called “Meow Prime.” He even has a balance transfer offer. I once tried a balance transfer—my balance transferred directly into collections.
The Financial Advice
Mister Pickles tried to explain it to me last night by scratching numbers into the litter box. From what I gather: pay on time, live within your means, and don’t finance a jet ski you saw on Craigslist at 2 a.m. I guess cats have nine lives because they don’t waste the first eight on bad APRs.
I’m not jealous (okay, I am). But if you see me at the bar this weekend, drinks are on Mister Pickles. He’s got the rewards card—and apparently, the financial responsibility I’ll never have.
