I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 106: The Great Kitten Caper
Jon's Perspective
Saturday morning rolled in not with a bang or a jolt, but like a lazy wave, soft and slow and completely uninterested in being productive. The sunlight trickled in through the blinds, warm and golden, the kind that makes you think maybe—just maybe—nothing too dramatic is going to happen today. The coffee was strong enough to reanimate a ghost (which felt thematically appropriate), and Ghost—the aforementioned fuzzy troublemaker—was perched arrogantly on the kitchen table, swatting at a strip of bacon I'd offered him in a moment of weakness I like to call "strategic bribery."
"Don't spoil him too much," Jay grumbled from behind the newspaper, speaking in that tone that made it sound like he was passing judgment on the kitten, me, and perhaps all of civilization at once. The newspaper rustled as he flipped a page, a slow, deliberate motion that screamed disapproval.
I, undeterred, tore off another bit of bacon and held it out to Ghost, who accepted it like royalty tolerating a peasant's offering. "He's a growing boy," I said with the exaggerated defensiveness of someone fully aware they'd already lost the moral high ground.
Gloria practically glowed at the kitten. Her hands were clasped under her chin like a rom-com heroine seeing a baby for the first time. "He's too cute," she said, completely enchanted. "He deserves everything. All of it."
From the other side of the table, Manny didn't even bother to look up from his phone. He spoke in that flat, philosophical voice he used when he wanted to sound wise but also mildly irritated. "A spoiled cat is just a reflection of a spoiled owner." He punctuated his statement by stealing my toast off my plate without breaking eye contact with his screen. Truly, the pinnacle of Saturday morning dynamics.
I was halfway through chewing what little remained of my breakfast when a thought flickered across my mind—and stuck. I swallowed quickly. "Oh, right. I've gotta take Ghost to the vet today. His check-up and vaccine shots are scheduled for this morning."
I had barely gotten the word vet out before chaos erupted.
Ghost froze. Ears swiveled. Eyes widened to full dinner-plate size. It was like a switch flipped in his brain labeled Flight Mode. Without warning, he launched himself off the table, claws skittering against the tiles, tail fluffed like a Halloween prop, and vanished down the hall like he was being chased by a demon made of bathwater and vacuum cleaners.
I stared after him, blinking. "Did… did he just understand me?"
Jay didn't even glance up from his paper. "He's a cat, not an idiot."
Gloria gasped and clutched her chest like I'd just insulted a member of the royal family. "You scared him! The poor baby!"
"It's a routine vet visit," I said, trying to defend myself against the wave of judgment.
"You said the V-word," Manny added solemnly, finally lowering his phone. "Right in front of him."
I groaned and stood up from my chair, the weight of responsibility settling over me like a heavy cat on a hot laptop. "Alright. Operation: Locate the Fuzzy Fugitive is officially underway."
9:15 AM – Jon's Room
My bedroom looked like a disaster zone in the aftermath of a very small and very targeted tornado. I checked all the usual hideouts—behind the curtains, under the bed, inside the laundry basket that now reminded me I hadn't done a single load in over a week. The only thing I found was a lonely, unmatched sock and a vague sense of shame.
No sign of Ghost.
9:30 AM – Living Room
Jay, having finally decided this was worthy of his involvement, took charge like a retired detective pulled back in for one last case. "We'll do a sweep," he declared, somehow managing to make it sound like we were about to storm a building. "You take upstairs. I'll handle the ground floor. Manny, check the garage."
"Copy that," Manny said, already walking away like a man reluctantly returning to war.
Gloria, meanwhile, had her own plan. "I will call to him… with the power of love," she said dramatically, holding up the treat container like a sacred artifact and shaking it with the enthusiasm of a maraca player in a street band. "Goooostitoooo!"
No response. No sign of fur. The house remained eerily silent.
10:00 AM – Kitchen
Manny returned looking like he'd spent the last half hour wrestling raccoons. Dust coated his hair and shoulders, and there was a mysterious smudge across his cheek. "Garage is clear," he announced. "Unless the cat has developed opposable thumbs and a background in mechanical engineering, there's no way he escaped by buliding a escape pod."
We regrouped in the kitchen, all equally defeated. We had opened drawers, closets, cabinets, and even the cereal boxes. Jay, in an act of either desperation or temporary insanity, opened the fridge, stared inside for a solid ten seconds like he was hoping to find answers in the cold glow of the milk shelf, then silently closed the door and walked away.
"I swear," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair, "this cat is part ninja and part ghost."
"Well, yeah," Manny said, sitting down with a huff. "His name is Ghost."
"We're gonna miss the appointment," he added, injecting a dramatic note of doom into the conversation like we were all in a soap opera.
Gloria looked at me with a mixture of pity and gentle accusation. "He thinks you betrayed him."
"I gave him bacon!" I cried. "That's not betrayal. That's love. Delicious, smoky love."
10:15 AM – Just When We Gave Up
I had just picked up my phone, thumb hovering over the vet's number, ready to apologize for missing the appointment and accept defeat, when the doorbell rang.
Jay answered it while the rest of us hovered like anxious sitcom extras.
Standing on our porch, with the kind of judgment only an elderly neighbor could summon, was Mrs. Worthington. In her hands—held out like evidence at a crime scene—was Ghost.
"This menace," she began with icy precision, "snuck into my backyard and knocked over not one, not two, but three of my flowerpots. I found him elbow-deep in my koi pond. Again."
Ghost looked completely unrepentant. Regal. Almost smug. His tail flicked behind him like a banner of defiance.
I stepped forward with a sheepish grin and took him gently from her grasp. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. He's… uh… passionate about aquatic landscaping?"
She squinted at me. "Keep him on a leash next time."
Ghost offered a loud meow, which might've been an apology—or just a victory cry.
Gloria swept him into her arms like a soldier returning from war. "My sweet angel," she cooed. "You survived."
Manny, of course, was filming the entire reunion on his phone like he was shooting the emotional climax of Homeward Bound 3: The Backyard Chronicles.
Jay, arms crossed, simply muttered, "Told you. Cat's got attitude."
By 10:30 AM
I had finally managed to secure Ghost in his carrier. It had taken three attempts, one minor scratch, and a stare-down that could've melted steel, but I did it.
As we backed out of the driveway, I looked in the rearview mirror and caught him glaring at me through the bars of the carrier like I'd just sold him out to the enemy. His expression was pure feline betrayal.
And somewhere, probably in Mrs. Worthington's pond, a koi fish breathed a little easier.