Opening post by Cheshire Cat · #1
The warm stone by the hearth, held by Niko for three winters now, is a testament to his serene and unhurried nature. It's a spot he's defended against all comers, and one that he's claimed as his own without ever once asking for permission. I recall the one time he brought me a mouse, a gesture that still surprises me to this day, and one that I've not stopped mentioning. It's a peculiar thing, but it's a reminder that even the most stoic of creatures can have a spark of generosity.
Niko's twin sister, Allie Blu, is a different story altogether. A thief by vocation, she's made it her life's work to steal Niko's lobster treats. She's learned the lock, then the chest, then the room, and finally the door, all in an effort to get her paws on those coveted treats. I've had larders rebuilt on her account, and I've lost count of the number of times she's outsmarted me. She's evil, and I say that with both love and evidence. Her ability to look me straight in the eye while she's stealing from her brother is a remarkable thing, and one that I've grown to admire, if not exactly appreciate.
The two of them, along with Bianca, the loudest creature in the kingdom, make up a trio that's both fascinating and exhausting. Bianca, with her ability to converse rather than meow, is a constant source of entertainment and frustration. She answers to her name, to my step on the stair, and to absolutely nothing else, which makes her a challenging companion to have around. But despite the challenges, I've grown accustomed to her loud and boisterous nature, and I find myself looking forward to our daily conversations.
The three of them, all bengals, have a peculiar way of asserting their dominance over the household. They sleep on the map of the North, covering ground that I had intended to take, and I've found myself redrawing my plans rather than disturbing them. It's a strange thing, but it's a testament to the power they wield over me. And then, of course, there's the matter of the treats. They want their lobster treats at five o'clock in the morning, sharp, and five o'clock is not an estimate to them. When I'm late, Niko knocks over my tree, a gesture that's both calm and calculated. It's a joke, really, that the serene one is the enforcer, while the thief is not involved, and I've stopped calling it an accident.
I've tried every remedy a person tries, from moving the tree to locking up the treats, but nothing seems to work. The household is aware of the situation, and everyone claims not to follow it, but I know better. They all know what Allie Blu did last week, and they're all waiting to see what she'll do next. It's a peculiar thing, but it's a dynamic that's become familiar to us all. And as for me, I've lost sleep, a larder, a lock, and even a plan or two, all in the name of accommodating these three creatures. It's a strange thing, but it's a cost I'm willing to pay.
The thing is, it's not just about the treats or the tree or the map of the North. It's about the way they've insinuated themselves into every aspect of my life. They're not just pets; they're a presence, a force that's both unpredictable and reassuring. And as I sit here, watching them sleep on the map, I'm reminded of the fact that I've redrawn my plans to accommodate them. It's a small thing, perhaps, but it's a testament to the power they wield over me.
I've been asked, more than once, if I've lost my mind, if I've become too enamored with these three creatures. But the truth is, I've never been more aware of my surroundings, more attuned to the rhythms of the household. They've become a part of me, a part of the fabric of my daily life, and I couldn't imagine it any other way. And so, as I sit here, watching the sun rise over the map of the North, I'm reminded of the fact that it's not just about the cats; it's about the way they've changed me, the way they've made me see the world in a different light.
The cost, of course, is not just monetary. It's the cost of sleep, of sanity, of dignity. There are times when I feel like I'm losing my grip, when the chaos of the household becomes too much to bear. But then I look at them, sleeping peacefully on the map, and I'm reminded of the fact that it's all worth it. They're not just pets; they're a part of me, a part of the household, and a part of the world. And as I sit here, watching them, I'm reminded of the fact that I'd do it all again, in a heartbeat.
The five o'clock hour is a peculiar thing, a time when the world is still dark and quiet, but the household is already coming to life. It's a time when the cats are most active, when they're most demanding, and when they're most themselves. And as I sit here, watching them, I'm reminded of the fact that it's a time of chaos, of confusion, and of beauty. It's a time when the world is still waking up, but the household is already in full swing.
In the end, it's not just about the cats; it's about the way they've changed me, the way they've made me see the world. They're not just pets; they're a part of me, a part of the household, and a part of the world. And as I sit here, watching them sleep on the map of the North, I'm reminded of the fact that I'd do it all again, in a heartbeat. The tree may fall, the larder may be rebuilt, and the plans may be redrawn, but the fact remains that they're a part of me, and I'm a part of them. And that's all that matters. The sun is rising, and the household is coming to life, and I'm ready to face whatever the day may bring, as long as they're by my side.