The house belonging to Mia and Leo had grown unusually quiet. In the evenings, each did their own thing: Leo worked on his computer, while Mia read or watched old movies. One day, she sighed, "Maybe we should at least turn on the TV? Otherwise, you can even hear the clock ticking."
The next day, Mia walked up to Leo with her phone. On the screen was a tiny, striped kitten with wide, round eyes. "Look at this little guy!" Leo squinted. "Nope. Don't even start. I know how this ends."
He rattled off the whole list: nighttime concerts, scratched furniture, puddles where they didn't belong. Mia listened attentively, nodded, and turned the screen back toward him. The kitten looked as though he had personally promised never to break a single rule.
"Oh, come on, look at those ears," Mia said softly. Leo sighed. He already knew he had lost the negotiation, even though he hadn't officially agreed yet. "We're setting up the litter box right away, though," he grumbled. Mia broke into a wide smile.
That evening, the new tenant arrived home. He was provided with bowls, a warm bed, a toy, and a litter box. Mia carried the little guy around in her arms, melting at every tiny squeak. Leo stood nearby, arms crossed, studying the kitten with the air of a strict inspector.
At night, the little one slept right next to Mia. But in the morning, after she left, a voice rang out from the hallway: "Meow! Meow! MEOW!" Leo opened one eye. The concert was going on without a break. "Fantastic," he muttered. "We've moved in with a siren."
The kitten demanded attention and tried to force his way into the room with the computer. Leo didn't let him in: first, he had to get the hang of the litter box. But instead of getting angry, Leo sat down by the door and started talking to him. Beyond the door, it went quiet for a second.
"Listen here, buddy," Leo said. "The bathroom is strictly at the designated address. No rallies at night. Leave the furniture alone. Any questions?" In response, a short "meow" echoed back. "Glad we're on the same page," Leo nodded solemnly.
When Mia got back, she walked in on a surprising sight: Leo was squatting in front of the kitten, showing him a toy mouse. "You said you didn't want him!" Leo stood up straight. "I don't need him. I'm just conducting a briefing for the new hire!"
Mia laughed. Meanwhile, the kitten launched an attack on Leo's shoelace. Leo shook his head, but didn't pull the lace away. The house was noisy again. And even though Leo wasn't ready to admit it yet, he was already checking where the little troublemaker was sleeping. Sometimes families grow off script.