You’d think surviving a kidnapping would earn a cat some special treatment, perhaps chicken drumstick.
But no, same slop for breakfast because apparently, “it’s good for your digestion.”
My digestion is perfectly fine, thank you very much.
As my siblings nibbled obediently, I plotted revenge. Not a small one either. A grand, poetic act of justice. Ben would regret the day he betrayed us.
I watched Ben walk out of the kitchen, humming to himself like nothing had happened. My sister was busy washing her paw. My brother, the traitor, was snoring on the windowsill - clearly traumatised in his own lazy, drool-covered way.
It was clear I was the only one taking this outrage seriously. Someone had to deliver justice. Someone had to restore honour. Someone… needed revenge.
That’s when I saw it.
A glint of light, bouncing off something on the kitchen table.
Shiny. Suspicious. Important.
I froze. The morning light caught it again… a small bunch of metal shapes dangling from a loop… I knew those.
Ben always carried them when he approached the Beast on Four Wheels. He’d jingle them, insert one into its side, and suddenly it would roar to life like a dragon awakened.
So that’s how he controls it. The key to its power - literally.
And now, it was unguarded.
I sprang onto the table with the agility of a seasoned predator (ignoring one small slip and an unfortunate encounter with the fruit bowl). The shiny thing jingled faintly as I batted it with my paw. Heavy. Smelled faintly of Ben. Definitely powerful.
I knew what had to be done. If Ben uses this to make the Beast move, then without it… no more kidnappings.
Simple. Elegant. Genius.
I clamped the keys in my teeth, proud of my brilliance, and jumped down. Now came the crucial part - hiding them.
I strutted into the living room, tail high, running through the options.
Under the sofa? Tempting, but that’s where all good ideas go to die and also where my sister stores her half-eaten toys. Too crowded.
Behind the curtains? Too obvious. Under the TV stand? Dusty. Typical Ben - master of crumbs and chaos. You could probably grow potatoes under there.
Then another idea struck me. The weird bowl of water in the bathroom — the one humans stare into sometimes and then make it flush itself alive. Perfect! I could drop the shiny thing in there, and it would vanish forever into whatever strange underground realm it leads to.
I trotted halfway up the stairs before remembering one very important detail: the last time I tried investigating that bowl, the experience was... damp. Deeply undignified. Never again.
No, I would not risk another watery humiliation, not even for justice.
I paced for a moment, thinking hard. Then it hit me - the sofa. The perfect crime scene. Humans lose things there all the time. Remote controls, pens, food. It was a black hole of forgotten treasures.
Yes. That’s where the shiny thing would vanish. Forever.
I trotted toward the sofa, head full of victory speeches. I’d be known forever as Mittens the Liberator. The humans would weep when they realised they could never again control the roaring beast. I might even write a memoir. “Chapter One: How I Saved Everyone from Wheel Doom.”
And then…
“Hey! Mittens! What have you got there?”
Ben.
The villain himself, now advancing with that fake-cheerful tone humans use right before snatching something back.
Our eyes locked.
Mine said, “You’ll never take me alive.”
His said, “Please don’t swallow that.”
The chase was on.
He lunged, I darted under the table.
He tried to block the kitchen door, I veered left and shot through the hallway.
My claws clattered dramatically across the wooden floor as I zigzagged past the shoe rack, bounced off the wall for extra flair, and flew up the stairs two at a time.
Behind me came the thunder of human feet and the repeated cry of “Mittens! Drop it!”
Ha! As if I’d ever obey such tyranny.
Upstairs, I needed to lose him. Where to go, where to go…
My paws thundered across the carpet as I skidded to a stop in the centre of Ben's bedroom, heart racing, tail puffed to heroic proportions.
Think, Mittens, think. Where to hide? Under the bed? Too obvious. Behind the curtain? Amateur hour. I needed something clever. Something legendary.
That’s when I saw it! The smaller door on the wardrobe. Sleek, shiny, mysterious. “A secret passage!” I thought. “Perfect. He’ll never catch me now.”
I crouched low, muscles coiled, every whisker tingling with anticipation. One mighty leap and freedom would be mine.
I launched myself toward the door and bounced off it.
I staggered back, blinking, as another cat appeared where the door had been. He looked... exactly like me. Same magnificent fur. Same noble whiskers. Same startled expression.
The other cat didn’t move, just stared. Rude. I inched closer, tail twitching. He copied me exactly. I raised a paw…so did he. I tilted my head… so did he.
“Mockery,” I hissed under my breath. “He thinks he’s clever.”
I was just about to show him who was boss when Ben’s footsteps pounded up the stairs behind me…
He crouched down, speaking softly now. “Come on, you little thief. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He gently pried the shiny thing from my jaws, setting it safely on a high shelf. “You really are something else,” he said with a laugh.
I glared. My tail flicked. This wasn’t over.
He might have won this round, but the war for justice continues.
You may have your shiny power sticks, Benjamin.
But know this: vengeance never sleeps, it merely naps in sunbeams until the time is right.