The font is Garfield Sans rule

Making-Of / Behind the Meme.

The cat in question belongs to a housemate. In the evenings, when we have all retired to our rooms, the cat roams the lower floor alone. Sometimes I hear the cat yowl and at first I thought she was lonely but when I went down to comfort her she gave me a look like wtf and walked away like I had no idea what was going on. I didn't understand until one eve when I was getting a snack in the kitchen I heard that same yowl and peeked in at her.

The cat was standing over her favorite toy which is a feather on a long string tied to a stick. During the night-times the cat would drag it around, eventually taking it to her catnip-laced scratchpad presumably for some kind of drunken cat toy orgy. But now she had just pulled it out from where it was stuck in the couch and was yowling triumphant yet remorseful. I sensed in the cat's cry an awareness of the transience of life, a feeling of regret for the unavoidable sin of a predator defeating its prey, a warning to all beings of the dangers of engaging in the mortal hunt. It reminded me of the scene from Enter the Dragon when Bruce Lee's character reluctantly finished off O'Hara in a fight to the death.

"Fluffy-Cat," I said out loud, "you are a real warrior poet. A martial arts philosopher." Deeply moved, I gave my best green-belt-in-karate bow, and carefully backed away.