A Hot St. Louis Night

It was one of those St. Louis days where the air sticks to your fur and the shadows sweat just standing still. The human had a man in an orange shirt poking around the condo — said he was an air-conditioner repair guy. Beard, toolbox, the whole act. I didn’t like him. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, maybe it was the color of that shirt. Either way, I gave him the kind of stare that tells a guy to keep his distance.

He came once, slapped a band-aid on the problem, and left us to sweat. A week later he came back to “fix it for good.” I wasn’t buying it. The human called it a brand-new system, but in a box this small, circulation is king. You close the wrong door, you cook.

The Victory in This Luna Bella Journal Entry

That night, the heat was so heavy it pushed the human to give in. He opened the bedroom door again. My bedroom door. After days of exile, I strutted back in like I’d never left. Sure, he left the laundry and bathroom doors shut — but I’d won my turf back, and that was enough to sleep on. For one night, I was queen again.

The Bathroom Discovery

The next day, fate dealt me a lousy hand. The human ducked into the bathroom, shut the hallway door. No problem, I thought. I took the long route — bedroom, closet, laundry, bathroom. A clean loop. I kicked the door open just in time to make the worst discovery of my nine lives.

That porcelain throne I’d been eyeing? Not a water chair. Not some giant, chilled bowl waiting for me to dip my whiskers. No, sweetheart — it was his litter box. My human’s litter box. And he was using it.

My tail puffed, my eyes went wide. I couldn’t unsee it. And to think I’d wanted to drink out of that.

The Cost of Victory

By sundown, I had the full run again — bedroom, closet, laundry, bathroom. On paper, it was a victory. But the truth? Some victories cost too much. I’d gained a kingdom, but lost an illusion.

—Luna 🐾