Last night was… quiet. Too quiet.
Usually, by the time I’m in bed, I’ve got the soundtrack of my life going—Zephyr thundering through the house, Zazu sprinting up the pole, Zuri hissing at someone for breathing wrong. But not this time.
It was unnerving enough that I pulled up my living room camera to see what was going on.
There was Zuri, curled up in front of the hallway like a furry bouncer, blocking the entrance to Zephyr’s room—the same room where he stayed for several weeks when he first arrived. It’s his safe space. Zuri won’t go in there herself, but she does like to guard the doorway.
I got up to investigate. Lights on, a full sweep of Zephyr’s room—nothing. He wasn’t there. Neither was Zazu. I was halfway back to my bedroom when I saw it.
There they were. Perched together on top of the kitchen cabinets. Silent. Motionless. Glowing eyes fixed on me. A secret cat meeting? Late-night plotting session? I’ll never know.
Meanwhile, Zuri was still on hallway patrol, looking very much like someone who didn’t get the invite. I almost felt bad for her—almost—but if she’d stop being such a diva, she might actually get included.
With these three, silence is never a good sign.
A Stitchin’ Hot Mess 