The world was dark when I opened my eyes. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what had woken me. Maybe a noise, a dream, or perhaps my stomach reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in at least three hours.
I blinked and looked around. The house was wrapped in shadows, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. My siblings were all sound asleep, a furry heap of chaos. My sister snored like a malfunctioning kettle, and my brother… oh, my brother. He had somehow managed to fall asleep half-on, half-off the sofa with one back leg stretched dramatically into the air.
“Lovely,” I thought. “A true work of modern art. I call it ‘Tripping Hazard’”
I sighed and gave my paw a few proud licks. Someone in this household had to maintain standards. And since everyone else was clearly useless, that someone was me.
It was time for my nightly patrol, my sacred duty.
I hopped off the bed, landing soundlessly, and began my rounds. The living room was first. I crept along the carpet, tail low, ears alert. A shadow flickered on the wall… my own, but I gave it a warning glare anyway. Best not to take chances.I looked around the room, the curtains: suspiciously still, the corner behind the lamp: smelled faintly of dust and adventure.
I batted at a stray sock (purely for inspection purposes) and moved on to the kitchen. My claws clicked lightly against the tiles. The air was still, no sign of movement, no sound except the faint hum of the refrigerator. I gave the fridge a long, meaningful stare. “One day,” I whispered, “you and I shall battle for the last slice of chicken roast. But not tonight.”
Satisfied that all was well - if disappointingly snackless - I padded towards the stairs. Once, these towering steps were my greatest enemy. I used to stand at the bottom and yowl dramatically. But that was before I became an athlete. Now, I conquer them daily, sometimes just for fun.
I took the first step with practiced grace. Then another. Tail high, chin up. Halfway up, I paused and looked down at my domain. “Behold,” I thought, “the king surveys his kingdom.”
At the top, I gave a proud little chirp.
Then I saw Ben.
He was in bed, fast asleep. A mountain of blankets, a mess of hair, and a faint, rhythmic rumble coming from his face. Odd. He was already like that before my evening nap, and that was hours ago. I tilted my head.
“Strange,” I thought. “Humans usually wake up every now and then to serve snacks, scratch ears, or admire me. He must be terribly lazy tonight.”
I leapt onto the bedside table and observed him from a higher vantage point - just in case he was faking it. Nope. Definitely asleep. I flicked my tail thoughtfully.
“How long do humans sleep anyway? A few hours? A day? A century?”
No one had ever told me. Maybe Ben had entered some sort of hibernation. Maybe he was broken.
A cold realization hit me.
If Ben didn’t wake up…
Who would refill my bowl?
Who would roast the chicken?
Who would open the tuna tins?!
Panic fluttered in my chest. This was serious. A full-scale emergency.
“Don’t worry, Ben,” I meowed softly. “Stay calm. I’m a trained professional.”
I jumped onto the bed and gave his arm a gentle tap with my paw. No reaction. His snoring continued, a deep, rumbling growl like a motorbike with hay fever. I frowned.
“Hmm. Possibly his soul escaping. Must act quickly.”
I poked his cheek this time, harder. Still nothing. He just made another strange noise that sounded somewhere between a sigh and a kazoo. I sniffed his nose. Warm air. So he was technically alive. But clearly struggling.
There was only one solution left: physical intervention.
I climbed onto his chest, balanced carefully, and placed both front paws firmly on his face.
“Ben. Ben. This is your final warning. Arise, servant!”
Nothing.
So I leaned closer until my whiskers brushed his nose.
“Ben. If you perish, who will…”
“MMFFRPHH!”
Ben jerked upright so fast I nearly launched into orbit. I landed on the pillow behind him, fur puffed up like a dandelion in a thunderstorm. His eyes were wide, hair sticking up like a startled hedgehog.
“Mittens! What are you doing?”
I blinked innocently. “You’re welcome. I’ve just saved your life.”
He groaned, rubbing his face. “You sat on my face!”
“Technically, I was performing a rescue operation,” I corrected. “You’ve been unconscious for hours. It was touch and go for a while.”
Ben stared at me, unimpressed. “It’s midnight.”
“You call it midnight, I call it prime time for heroism” I thought.
He sighed and flopped back onto the pillow. “You’re impossible. Go to bed, Mittens.”
I purred, stepping delicately onto his shoulder. You may express your gratitude through chicken.
I sat down, curling my tail neatly around my paws. “Oh, I intend to. Right here. Next to my recently rescued human.”
He gave up and closed his eyes. Within moments, the snoring returned, that same silly rumble that had started the whole ordeal. I tilted my head, listening. Now that I knew it wasn’t a distress signal, it was actually… rather comforting.
I yawned and stretched. The house was quiet again. My siblings downstairs were still tangled in a pile and all was well in my kingdom.
I curled up at the foot of the bed, eyes heavy. “Another night, another crisis averted,” I thought sleepily. “Truly, I am the unsung hero of this household.”
And with that, I drifted back to sleep. Ready, as always, to save the day (or night) again tomorrow.