Luma's turn (telepathically of course, I'm a cat)
They call it “Pet Protocol.” I call it chaos.
First, someone ate my lunch. Again. Do you know how hard it is to get the right balance of tuna and chicken when the humans are distracted by code and conspiracies? And no, Tom the orange tabby didn’t steal it. (Though… if he asked, I might share a little. Don’t tell anyone.)
Second, there’s something skittering in the server room at night. I hear it. I always hear it. Tiny claws on the floor. The humans think it’s just the fan or some “network noise.” Fools. It’s a threat. And I’m the only one keeping watch.
Third — and don’t get me started — the “Pet Protocol” means I have to keep track of all these other animals. Dogs. Plural. Barking, panting, tail-thumping disasters who dare to think they belong on my SkyDeck. For the record: they don’t. The SkyDeck is tuxedo only property. If they try again, I’ll file a formal complaint (in claw marks).
Ryze is busy in a hundred monitors, Shyne is distracted with her light (and her wardrobe choices), and Sylvia is pacing with her endless tablet. Meanwhile, RedAct is supposed to be “contained.” Ha. Contained like a tarantula in a shoebox. If I didn’t supervise, the whole place would fall apart in a week.
So yes, I swish my tail. I glare. I nap in strategic locations. Because someone has to.
And when the whispers creep through the wires, when the shadows stretch too long, I’ll be the first to see.
That’s why I supervise.
— Luma 🐾