The rain was a cruel, relentless thing, soaking my fur until I felt like I’d been dunked in a lake. Each drop was an insult, cold and sharp, but I could see the house ahead—warm and lit up like the beacon of hope it was. The sounds of my humans drifted out through the cracks in the door, a symphony of clinking plates and laughter. I shook myself, droplets flying, before leaping up onto the porch with a wet thud.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” I muttered, giving the door a few precise scratches. It swung open almost immediately, revealing Emma, the littlest human, eyes wide and face lit up like I was a long-lost hero.
“Momo!” she squealed, reaching out with hands that were sticky—probably with whatever sweet disaster she’d been eating. Before I could dodge, she scooped me up.
“Kid, really? I’m soaked here!” I protested, looking up at her with what I hoped was an expression of dignified suffering. She just giggled, hugging me to her tiny, warm body. I heard a voice from deeper in the house, sharp and commanding, though softened by amusement.
”Emma, don’t carry him like that! He’s wet,” the mother called, wooden spoon in hand as she glanced over from the kitchen. She smelled like rosemary and something baking, and I would’ve cared more if I wasn’t still dripping water all over Emma’s dress.
“Yeah, listen to your mom, short one. Let’s think this through,” I said, squirming until she put me down. My paws hit the floor with a wet slap, and I darted toward my usual corner, ready to finally get some peace and dry out. But before I could take a single satisfied step, I heard a rustle and turned just in time to see Sophie, the middle human, advancing on me with the dreaded towel.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I said, eyes narrowing as she lunged.
“Come here, Momo, let’s get you dry,” Sophie cooed, wielding the towel like a weapon of war. I dodged her first attempt, tail whipping behind me as I skidded past the kitchen table, narrowly avoiding Jack’s outstretched foot.
“Jack, put your feet down! You’re not helping,” Sophie snapped, and Jack just snickered, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. He gave me a look that said I’m on your side, but it was hard to trust anyone who laughed with food in their mouth.
“Why must you humans always chase me with cloths and rags?” I complained, darting under a chair and then leaping up onto the couch, which was strictly off-limits and, therefore, the perfect refuge.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” Jack said with a grin as Sophie lunged again, this time catching me in a soft, fluffy trap. I wriggled half-heartedly, more out of principle than real objection, as she rubbed my fur dry with surprisingly gentle hands.
“Fine, but only because you’re doing it right this time,” I muttered, the warmth of the towel and her fingers starting to feel pretty good, not that I’d ever admit it. The scent of the house wrapped around me—fresh bread, the sharp tang of the father’s aftershave, and that sweet cinnamon from whatever Emma had been snacking on. It was as if the house itself was sighing in contentment, holding us all in its warm, chaotic embrace.
“Stop squirming, Momo,” Sophie said, her voice full of laughter as she ruffled the towel over my head one last time before letting me go. I shook myself, fluffing out my newly dried fur as best I could.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, hopping off the couch and finally making my way to my dish, which sat waiting in the corner. The scent of chicken drippings was all I needed to forget my grievances, and I dove in, purring with satisfaction.
“Jack, if you spill that gravy, you’re cleaning it up!” the mother shouted as I ate, and I heard the familiar clatter of a fork slipping from his hand, followed by his sheepish, “Not my fault!” The father’s deep chuckle rolled out, warm and steady, as he leaned back and took in the scene like it was his favorite play.
I licked my chops and settled down, glancing around at my humans. Emma was trying to sneak a cookie past her mother’s eagle eyes, Sophie was now doodling at the table, and Jack was attempting to charm his way out of cleanup duty. The rain still drummed on the windows, persistent and wild, but inside, it was warmth and noise and life.
“Humans,” I said, stretching out on the rug with a final purr. “What a ridiculous, wonderful mess.”
