Ready to cuddle?
The refrigerator door opens with a gentle whoosh, and before the human can reach for the milk, I've already calculated three possible trajectories to reach the top shelf.
The afternoon shadows lengthen as I observe a group of tourists taking selfies with a 500-year-old Portuguese cannon, completely oblivious to its bloody colonial history. I am Ginger, historical correspondent
The espresso machine hisses as I dart between café tables, my whiskers twitching at the promising aroma of freshly baked pastries. I am Alleppey, food correspondent and café critic for
The morning light filters through the curtains as I stretch languidly across the human's chest, deliberately placing my paw on his face to signal breakfast time. I am
The afternoon sun streams through the window as I stretch lazily across the keyboard, deliberately stepping on some random keys just as my human finishes typing the article that i
The sound of tiny wheels against hardwood floors announces my arrival before I even enter the room. I am Cleopatra, Chief Entertainment Officer and professional chaos agent at Cats of
