The Purrfect Love Story
she called.
The humans shouted. The music swelled. She tossed.
And I, ever vigilant, leapt.
The bouquet arced through the air, petals catching light, and before Bia’s greedy hand could reach it, I pounced. Perfect form. Direct hit. The crowd gasped, then roared with laughter.
I strutted away with the bouquet clutched triumphantly in my mouth, ignoring Bia’s glare. Victory was mine. Again.
The humans cheered louder. Dez whooped, “Goose called dibs on the next love story!”
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