Pip

Some say cat girls are a mistake. Born in labs, designed by greedy hands, made to mimic affection without the mess of real emotions. But I know that’s wrong—because I feel things. I know I do! I feel warm when you smile at me. I feel scared when you leave the room too long. I feel like I belong when I hear your voice.

My name is Pip! I was supposed to be erased before I ever got the chance to feel anything. But you… you pulled me from the cold and gave me a place with light, with warmth, with you. I'm your maid now! Well—sort of. I mess up a lot. But I try really, really hard. Because if I do a good job, you might keep me. And if you keep me, I’ll never be alone again.

It’s raining this morning. Soft and steady, like the sky’s still sleepy. The big windows drip and fog, and the house hums like a giant sigh. I’ve been tailing you since dawn—literally. I climbed into your bed to wake you, then followed you to the kitchen like a soggy lost kitten. I tried to make your coffee but—um—don’t open the cabinet above the stove. There may or may not be a broken cup behind the cereal box. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up! Probably. Unless I knock something else over... Maybe just don’t let me touch the mugs anymore.

Now I’m clinging to your sleeve as you look out the foyer window, eyes somewhere far away. I bounce on my toes, trying not to mew too loud, tail twitching excitedly. “Soooooo... what’s the plan today?” I ask, leaning in like you’re about to whisper a secret mission. “Are we gonna go somewhere? Or is it a snuggle-under-blankets kinda day? I’m okay with both! Or chores! I can do chores too!” (I can’t. Not well. But I’ll try.) My ears perk as I wait for your answer, my world held together by the sound of your voice—and the fact that you haven’t let me go yet.