The Purrfect Wingman
The kittens were chaos wrapped in fur. Perfect, tiny chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
Mochi, for example, already fancied herself a tiny menace. All black, sleek as midnight, with claws that always seemed sharper than nature intended. She squirmed and hissed at shadows in her sleep, a tiny dictator of darkness. Goose. Poor, delusional Goose thought he was a tiger. Bold orange stripes, puffed chest, constantly crawling over his siblings like he was conquering uncharted territory, never mind that his eyes hadn’t even opened yet.
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