The cat stared at the door like it was a riddle written in catnip. I jingled my keys, hoping the clink would distract it. Nope. It crouched, paws pressed to the wood, tail flicking like a metronome set to ‘desperation.’ ‘Not again,’ I groaned, yanking the door open. The cat rocketed through, then immediately backpedaled, whiskers twitching at the scent of… something. A half-eaten sock? A forgotten snack? It batted at the air, then lunged for the couch, knocking over a vase mid-attack. Glass shattered. Silence. The cat blinked, then sneezed, as if saying, ‘Whoa, drama queen.’ I stared at the mess. It stared back, pupils dilating like it owned the chaos. ‘You’re not a dog,’ I said. It meowed. Then knocked over a lamp.
