The “Crazy Boy” Chronicles
So my new home isn’t so bad.
My new humans are obsessed with me. Oh dear…
They call me “Crazy Boy.”
No idea why. I’m just doing normal cat things — sprinting through the house at 3 a.m., attacking invisible enemies, climbing things that probably aren’t meant for climbing… totally reasonable behaviour.
They say I’m “zooming.” I say I’m training.
One day they’ll understand.
I’ve explored every corner of this place now — the couch, the curtains, the plants (they keep saying “No!” but honestly, if it dangles, it’s fair game). I’ve decided the best nap spots are: 1) the sunny patch by the window, 2) their bed — obviously mine now — and 3) the middle of the hallway, where they have to step over me every single time. It’s the small joys.
They keep making strange sounds at me — “Aww,” “Who’s my good boy?” “Get down from there!” — but I’m starting to understand that these noises usually mean food or cuddles. Or both.
I guess… these humans aren’t just my “new humans” anymore. They’re my humans.
And if being “Crazy Boy” means I get endless love, playtime, and treats… then I’ll happily keep doing whatever it is I’m doing.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I think the curtain just moved.
— Crazy Boy (apparently)