PJ The Cat : The PJ Priority

Bored and careless to the mess Pj made, as he claw at Micheal’s daily planner that didn’t fix the problem of Pj missing Nashe!

Michael had sighed, and cleaned it up, simple while he chalked it up to feline curiosity.

Then came the strategically placed hairballs in the middle of the hallway, perfectly positioned to surprise him in the dark.

Micheal of course stepped in one, barefoot, at 3 AM, on his way to the bathroom to many times.

(That was when the simmering frustration began to bubble in a heavy black&white…!)

But now, it was a full-blown eruption of chaos. Fluffy Pj had shredded the curtains in the living room, turning them into a tattered mockery of their former elegance. He'd systematically unraveled the throw pillows on the couch, leaving a feathery blizzard in his wake. And, the ultimate affront, he'd started using Michael's favorite leather armchair as a personal scratching post.

Michael walked into the living room after a particularly stressful day at the final service to find Fluffy Pj regally perched atop the ravaged armchair, casually grooming himself.

A low growl rumbled in Michael's chest.

"That's it!" he roared, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent room. (Fluffy Pj, momentarily startled)

Jumping down and adopted an innocent, wide-eyed expression that Michael knew was pure, unadulterated deceit.

He grabbed a rolled-up newspaper and advanced on the cat. "You think this is funny, huh? You think you can just destroy everything I own while Tinashe's gone?"

Fluffy darted under the coffee table, his tail twitching nervously. Michael pointed to the rolled-up newspaper. "I've had it Pj! I've absolutely had it up to a boiling point! No more. (Micheal shouted putting my foot down)

Micheal: Fluffy… This behavior stops NOW!"

He whacked the coffee table, not the cat, with the newspaper. The sound echoed loudly. Fluffy hissed, then bolted, disappearing down the hallway.

Michael stood there, panting, the newspaper clutched in his hand. He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He wasn't a cat person to all his pain of missing Nashe. He'd tolerated Fluffy for Tinashe. But alone, facing the aftermath of the cat's reign of terror, with the outside world. Micheal was losing his grip feeling utterly defeated.

He slumped onto the less-destroyed side of the couch, surveying the wreckage. He needed a plan. He needed to reclaim his house from this furry overlord. He needed Tinashe to come home.

The sound of a gentle purr startled him. He looked down to find Fluffy circling his legs, rubbing against him. Michael hesitated. Was this an apology? A peace offering? Or just a cunning ploy to lull him into a false sense of security before the next wave of destruction from Pj?

Micheal: I miss her too Pj but…

He eyed the cat suspiciously…Don't think this works, (It did everytime and Micheal knew it all the time)

Fluffy knew his warning meant nothing when he still was feeding and changing that litter box when it was time!

Micheal: This isn't going to change anything . Operation 'Clean House' starts tonight. And you, my friend, are going to be the target."

He knew he sounded ridiculous, talking to a cat that probably didn't understand a word he was saying. (Micheal he was beyond caring)

He needed to draw a line in the sand, even if it was just a line of shredded curtain fabric and cat hair. He was determined to survive until Tinashe came home, even if it meant engaging in a full-blown war with a deceptively cutie, but undeniably diabolical, feline.

All Micheal saw was Pj as a baby from the early days when it was simple and he didnt have the world on his back, when he didnt have to worry about anything.

The portly ginger mix orange tabby pattern of beauty with a penchant for mischief, was on a mission after all the cleaning.

He'd been eying the forbidden treasure on the nightstand by Micheals bed for hours – that Micheal left open!

a bright red packet promising sugary delight.

His human, Micheal, was out after all his cwords that went in one ear and out the other, and the coast was clear with a leap of Olympic proportions for a cat of his girth, PJ snagged a KitCat bar.

He wrestled the crinkly wrapper completely open, the scent of chocolate and wafer filling his feline nostrils before tummy…Pj never had anything like this before.

Nashe always said human food was bad for Pj, but the aroma was too tempting to resist. He took a tentative nibble, then another, and soon the entire bar was gone.

Suddenly, PJ felt… strange!

The room seemed to tilt, the colors intensified, and a dizzying swirl of sugary sweetness filled his head. He blinked, trying to focus! (but the world around him dissolved into a kaleidoscopic tunnel of reds, browns, and whites.)

Pj tumbled through the tunnel…!

Pj landing with a soft thud on what felt like…marshmallow. Yes, a giant, bouncy marshmallow.

He looked around. He was in a landscape unlike anything he'd ever seen. Towering wafer structures scraped the bubblegum pink sky, and rivers of molten chocolate flowed lazily through valleys of crushed peanuts.

"Where am I?" PJ meowed, his voice echoing strangely in the confectionary wonderland.

Standing in place…what is these Pink Bubbles?

Pj knew he had to go explore and find someone or thing to give him answers?

A voice, smooth as caramel, answered, "Welcome, PJ. You are in the KitCat Kingdom, a realm born from your delicious indulgence."

PJ turned to see a small boy with a shovel, while tiny square figure with a smooth chocolatey coating and tiny wafer wings flitting around them both, that only Pj cared to turn his head and give attention too.

PJ: "Who are you?" (questioning the small boy while capturing the full image of the tiny wafer winged fairy, so Pj would never forget)

While leaping coco rock to the nestle sand behind the small boy Pj listens to the small boy whistled with answers to the easy questions Pj had…

Small Boy: I am a KitCat Knight, sworn to protect the balance of this sugary paradise. And you brave cat?

Small Boy; you are the first mortal creature to ever enter."

The Knight explained that the KitCat Kingdom was fueled by the joy of those who ate KitKats. But lately, something was amiss. The rivers of chocolate were turning sluggish, the wafer towers were crumbling, and the peanut valleys were becoming barren to all the pink bubbles covering in most of the KitCat Kingdom.

"It is the Shadow of Dissatisfaction," the small Knight explained, with his chocolate face grim.

Small Boy: It feeds on negative energy and threatens to consume our kingdom."

PJ didn't understand everything, but he understood that this weird, wonderful world was in trouble. He was, after all, a cat of action.

Pj: What can I do?

Small Boy: You! PJ, hold the key! Your pure, unadulterated joy in consuming the KitCat has opened the way. (You must find the Source of Sweetness and rekindle its light. It is located deep within the Crumbled Cookie Castle, guarded by the Gorgons of Grumbling."

So, PJ was to embarked on his quest?

The small boy opened a map as he explained and navigated Pj eyes into the treacherous of Peanut Cookie Valley full of guards at the exit of the Cookie Forest!

but narrowly avoiding sinking into quicksand mixed into the creamy path made of water & sticky caramel. (in the middle of the forest)

Small Boy; Can you outsmarted the mischievous Marshmallow Men who will try to bounce you into the Chocolate Chip River.

Small Boy: Before…

Finally, youll reached the Crumbled Cookie Castle.

Small Boy: True to their name, the Gorgons of Grumbling will be giant, grumpy creatures made of stale cookies and sour cream.

Small Boy; They will hurled insults and complaints at you, trying to break his spirit PJ.

PJ felt a pang of worry. The negativity he will face was palpable, almost suffocating to think about before his quest. He closed his eyes, remembering the pure joy he felt devouring the KitCat, making Micheal crazy & missing Nashe.

The crunch, the sweetness, the pure delight. He focused on that feeling and let out a loud, purring meow.

The sound echoed pass the mountains, through the forest, and into the Crumble Cookie Castle, disrupting the Gorgons.

Again, he closed his eyes and focused on the pure joy of the KitCat. He purred louder this time, a vibration of pure feline happiness. He imagined the taste, the texture, the feeling of blissful indulgence.

The KitCat Knight appeared happy, his chocolate face beaming. "You Ready PJ!

Small Boy: To saved the KitKat Kingdom ?

As the light faded in Small Boy eyes, PJ felt himself fading too. The world around him began to blur!

He blinked, and he was back in the bedroom with Micheal standing out him, The red KitKat wrapper lay crumpled on the floor. Micheal not surprised at anything except Pj’s breathing still.

Micheal: "PJ! Did you eat a KitKat?" she asked, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in her voice.

Micheal: Hey Super Cat, How many lifes is that now…you know what, lets keep this between me & YOU!

PJ just purred and rubbed against Micheals legs, a secret smile on his whiskered face. He knew, deep down, that he had been to a place no other cat had ever been, a place of pure sugary delight.

He might not remember all the details, but he would never forget the adventure, the Knight, map and the power of pure unadulterated KitKat joy.

He learned that day, even a little, naughty indulgence can lead to the sweetest of adventures, even if they are just in your mind.

And maybe, just maybe, he deserved another little nibble. ( if he ever wanted to get back there and save the kingdom that was all in his mind.)

Pj The Cat: The Tuff Part Back

The moonlight, a pale, judgmental smear across the Kachingwe household, PJ's eyes watched the only clock in the bedroom.

He kneaded Bartholomew, the threadbare rug that served as his temporary throne, his milky eyes fixed on the closed bedroom door. Michael, his human, was blissfully unaware of the cosmic imperative that had landed PJ, a orange black stripe ginger blur of fluff and existential dread, in this mundane world.

PJ was a KitCat now, a creature of pure, unadulterated chocolate and wafer, from a dimension where the snap was the only law!

He grow more tired of the useless human Micheal that been giving him the wrong food for so long, but Pj remembered fast “I need him just into Tinashe returns home”

Pj knew only way back? (Another KitKat bar.)

Not just any KitKat, mind you, but one imbued with the spirit of his homeland. (Inside Of the KitCat World)

He hadn't found one yet, and the gnawing emptiness in his very core was becoming unbearable.

He’d tried everything…

Licking Michael’s fingers until they were sticky with the phantom essence of caramel KitCat. (After they’re daily walk outside)

Rubbing against the ancient, chipped pantry door, hoping for a dimensional rift to open amongst the dusty tins of soup.

Pj even posed and gave enough “Ageless Cat” full of cutiness Micheal even couldn’t ignore.

& Still…

All useless!

His internal clock, a delicate balance of sugar cravings and a desperate cat prayer, told him Michael would be asleep soon.

It was time for Plan B, the one that involved a certain primal urge and a deep-seated resentment.

PJ stretched, each movement agonizingly slow, a deliberate act of feline defiance.

He padded silently to his designated spot in the kitchen, a corner of the floor that Michael, bless his oblivious human heart, had long ceded to him. With a concentrated effort, he squatted.

The resulting deposit was, even by his own standards, rather impressive in its sheer volume and… aroma.

He’d aimed for the center of the rug, the one Michael sometimes wore when he forgot to take them off before going to bed. (Perfect!)

A soft snort from the bedroom was all the confirmation he needed. Michael was stirring.

PJ let out a low, rumbling purr, a deceptive sound of contentment that masked the calculating architect beneath the fur.

He'd done his part. Now, for the more crucial mission!?

He hopped onto the kitchen counter, his paws finding purchase on the cool laminate. The scent, faint but undeniable, was somewhere in this wilderness of human possessions.

Scared on the counter that Micheal would get him, so he took a deep listen…

To hear Michael stirred, mumbled something about "tax returns," and then fell silent again. PJ ignored him.

Pj sniffed, his whiskers twitching, his nose a finely tuned instrument of chocolate detection.

The refrigerator hummed, a metallic beast that guarded its secrets making Pj jealous.

On a spare Island in the kitchen the fruit bowl offered only the sickly sweet perfume of overripe mixed berries, apples, oranges, grapes & a pineapple.

Pj tail gave an excited twitch?!

He bunched his muscles, preparing for the final ascent, when his gaze snagged on something else.

A small, ceramic ramekin, forgotten in the aftermath of a hasty dessert. It held a wobbly, amber-hued substance – KitKat fudge pudding.

Normally, PJ wouldn't give such a thing a second glance.

It wasn't tuna for crying out loud or chicken, and it certainly wasn't chocolate. But this fudge pudding… this pudding shimmered chance of returning maybe was all Pj could think about.

Curiosity, a feline trait as powerful as the urge to nap, got the better of him.

He nudged the ramekin with his nose. The pudding jiggled. A faint, sweet scent, not quite chocolate but strangely alluring, tickled his nostrils. He dipped a tentative paw in, then licked.

It was… different. A rich, creamy sweetness that dissolved on his tongue, followed by a fleeting, almost electric tingle at the back of his throat. PJ blinked. The kitchen seemed… sharper. The usual hazy glow around the lightbulbs intensified. Even the faint dust motes dancing in the air seemed to sparkle.

And then he saw it.

Becoming a shadow, As the patio backlight cut on the black Kat reflection did not appear in the reflection of the second kitchen window!

It was a cat, undeniably, but unlike any cat PJ had ever encountered.

Its fur was the color of black sky that surrounded the moonlight, shimmering with an iridescent sheen.

Its eyes, two pools of a liquid new moon, held an ancient wisdom. And on the chest, a symbol of fashioned from all things, tiny, perfectly and hard to see formed on the chest on the Black Kat that was only from KitCat World.

PJ’s fur bristled, not with fear, but with a bewildered awe.

He let out a soft, questioning meow.

PURR!

The shimmering cat tilted its head, its gold moon eyes locking onto his. A faint, musical trill, like the rustling of foil, emanated from it. Then, it spoke, not with sound, but directly into PJ’s mind.

Black Kat: “Greetings, seeker of the sweet crunch,” the voice echoed, as smooth as melted chocolate.

Black Kat: “You have tasted the Pudding of Revelation.

Black Kat: It has opened your inner eye.”

PJ blinked again, his mind reeling. Pudding of Revelation? Inner eye? He looked down at his paws, then back at the ethereal feline.

Black Kat:“You seek the sacred bars,” the shimmering cat continued, its gaze flicking towards the coveted Kit Kat.

Black Kat:“But the path to infinite sweetness is not always straightforward.

Black Kat:There are many such havens within these walls.”

PJ’s heart, already thrumming with anticipation, gave a hopeful leap.

Pj: More Kit Kats? (First Ever Speaking)

Black Kat: Indeed, (the phantom cat purred mentally.)

Its silver tail swished, and it began to drift, not just in the air, but in a way that seemed to warp the very fabric of the kitchen.

Black Kat: “Follow me, little one. I shall guide you to the nearest sanctuary.”

PJ, his senses now acutely attuned, could see the faint, shimmering trail the creature left behind, like stardust on the air.

He ignored the half-eaten Kit Kat pudding Micheal was going to scream about later, his focus entirely on the moon-colored feline.

The pudding’s magic was still tingling, allowing him to perceive the subtle shifts in energy, the faint, sweet vibrations emanating from other hidden repositories.

The shimmering cat led him through the kitchen, past the towering refrigerator, its metallic scent suddenly less appealing than the trail of sweetness. It glided through the doorway, and PJ, without hesitation, followed.

He found himself in the common room. The cat hovered near a low, wooden chest, the one his humans rarely opened.

A faint, chocolatey aura pulsed from it?

Black Kat:“Within,” the shimmering cat projected.

Black Kat:“A treasure trove awaits.”

PJ didn't doubt it. He leaped onto the chest, his claws finding purchase on the wood. He nudged at the lid with his nose, and to his surprise, it creaked open.

And there, glistening in the dim light, was a pristine, unopened Kit Kat.

PJ let out a triumphant yowl, a sound that was now filled with a newfound understanding.

Pj looked back for the shimmering Black Kat, but he was on the kitchen looking at Pj, as he slowly fades back into his mind of imagination before completely gone!

(leaving only the lingering, exquisite taste of the pudding and the intoxicating promise of chocolate.)

He nudged a familiar red and white wrapper, the faint scent of wafer and chocolate wafting out. He knew, with a certainty that transcended mere instinct, that his journey for Kit Kats had just reached a whole new, magical dimension, all thanks to a spoonful of KitCat fudge pudding and a guide from the world of pure confectionery bliss.

Then,Pj heard it. A rustle. Not from Michael. A different kind of rustle. A crinkle.

PJ’s head snapped up. His ears swiveled, zeroing in on the source. It was coming from the living room, from near the discarded pile of mail on the coffee table.

He launched himself from the chest withe the KitKat Bar, like a silent, black stripe ginger missile.

Hovering just above the discarded Kit Cat wrapper was a creature of pure, unadulterated feline magnificence.

There it was.

A Whole- KitCat bar, carelessly abandoned by Michael after his late-night snack-runs. The temptation was a physical force, pulling at his very essence.

He could almost taste the familiar snap, the creamy chocolate, the yielding wafer.

But this wasn't his KitKat. This was Michael's.

(The human Kit Cat was outdated)

Would it be enough? (The gnawing in his core screamed yes!)

He nudged the wrapper with his nose, a tentative exploration. The scent was intoxicating!

He let out a small, hopeful meow, a question directed at the universe, at the sleeping Michael, at the absent Tinashe.

Tinashe…

The name echoed in Pj mind, before a phantom breeze from KitCat World could hit Pj Fur.

Nashe was his littermate, his confidante, the one who understood the true nature of their existence. (Where was she? Had she made it back? The thought brought a pang of loneliness that was almost as sharp as his hunger.)

He glanced at the bedroom door again. Michael was silent. The coast was clear. This KitKat bar, however imperfect, was his only hope.

He delicately picked it up in his mouth, the familiar texture both a comfort and a torment. (Pj needed to be sure. He needed to know.)

With the KitKat bar clutched firmly, PJ retreated to his rug.

He looked at the door one last time, then ate the chocolatey prize!

A deep, guttural meow escaped him, a sound filled with a thousand of Pj unspoken needs, Pj closed his now green eyes, bracing himself for the unknown.

Pj had eaten the KitKat. Pj was headed back to his true home.

Over staying where Pj missed Tinashe more than he could ever express in clumsy human words.

Pj The Cat : Kat Future World

Unlocks On July 24. 2025 : In Honor Masked and Anonymous film release!

P.J. the orange cat was, by all accounts, a creature of simple pleasures.

A sunbeam on the worn rug, a fresh bowl of salmon-flavored kibble, and the rhythmic thump of his human’s hand stroking his back.

This particular life was easy with Micheal, engrossed in a glowing rectangle.

Boredom, that most dangerous of feline emotions, began to curdle in P.J.’s fluffy belly.

He surveyed his domain. The usual suspects – the perpetually shedding armchair, the suspiciously lumpy bathmat – offered no new adventures. His gaze settled on the dresser.

Micheals’s dresser. A forbidden mountain range, full of intriguing smells and rustling dangers. One of the top drawers was slightly ajar, a dark sliver of mystery.

How did the black cat know what he should had?

With a graceful, if slightly plump, leap, P.J. was on top of the bar with both eyes as he thought about each moment .

He sniffed at the gap, a tantalizing scent reaching his whiskers – sweet, with an underlying hint of something… past the timeline of cocoa?

He hooked a claw into the wooden edge, pulling with all his might. The drawer groaned, then slid open a few inches more.

Nestled amongst a jumble of scarves and stray socks, glinting innocently in the dim light, was a KitCat.

Not just any KitCat, but a dark chocolate one, its red wrapper surprisingly vibrant against the dull fabric.

P.J. had never seen chocolate before, but it smelled profoundly interesting.

He nudged it, batted it, then, with a surge of pure, unadulterated curiosity, he sank his teeth into a finger.

CRUNCH!

The sound was oddly loud in the quiet room. A sweet, slightly bitter taste exploded on his tongue, followed by the satisfying snap of the wafer. P.J. purred, a low rumble of pure bliss.

He took another bite. And another. He polished off the entire finger, then, feeling inexplicably energized, started on the second.

Mid-chew, the world around P.J. began to warp.

The beige walls of Micheal’s living room shimmered like heat haze.

The familiar scent of dust and old laundry was replaced by something antiseptic and faintly metallic.

Colors bled into each other, then snapped into sharp, blinding focus. (P.J blinked.)

He was no longer on the dresser, or looking at the bar that he should of never removed from the dresser in the first place.

(but this time P.j would finally learn a lesson)

He was on a gleaming, polished platform that hummed with a low vibration.

The room was vast, bathed in cool, artificial light from a ceiling that glowed like a giant screen. Towering structures of polished chrome and reinforced glass rose around him, interspersed with colossal, multi-tiered scratching posts that reached almost to the ceiling, complete with integrated sun lamps.

A new scent hit him – a complex mix of ozone, synthetic tuna, and… fear.

"Intruder detected. Feline designation: Unknown. Initializing scan.

The voice was smooth, synthesized, echoing from the ceiling…

P.J. froze, ears swiveling. A sleek, grey tabby, twice his size and with eyes that glowed with an unnerving intelligence, padded towards him.

It wore a collar of what looked suspiciously like platinum, engraved with intricate symbols.

Tabby: Well, well. A stray. Or perhaps a visitor from the Past Dimension

The tabby’s voice was a low growl, surprisingly articulate.

Tabby: Don't tell me you escaped the Great Purge and somehow slipped through the Temporal Anomaly. Though your scent is… primitive.

P.J. opened his mouth to meow, but only a small, bewildered squeak emerged.

Then P.J saw them!

Humans?

They moved with a peculiar, shuffling gait, their shoulders hunched, eyes downcast.

They wore identical grey tunics and trousers, and their faces were devoid of expression. One was meticulously sweeping the polished floor with a silent, automated broom, another was refilling a vast, shimmering water fountain shaped like a giant milk bowl.

Tabby: Hooman, cease your unproductive thoughts and maintain the optical sensors!

The tabby barked, and the sweeping human flinched, immediately looking up at a glowing wall display.

Cats. Everywhere. Not just strays, but magnificent specimens of every known breed, lounging on plush cushions, preening under heat lamps, or overseeing the humans with imperious stares.

Some wore collars like the tabby’s, others were draped in what appeared to be silk robes.

This wasn't just a cat-friendly future. This was a cat-ruled future!

P.J. watched, fascinated and horrified, as a tiny Persian kitten demanded to be carried to a higher perch, and a human immediately knelt, offering their back as a stepping stool. The humans didn't speak, not vocally.

They communicated through subtle gestures, head tilts, and a constant, low murmur of compliance.

This is the Great Central Cattery, the large tabby explained, apparently finding P.J.'s wide-eyed silence amusing.

Tabby: The heart of our civilization. Welcome to 2099, little one. The Golden Age of Felinity.

P.J.’s tail twitched nervously. Something felt… wrong. He scanned the vast, sterile hall. He saw no chew toys, no muddy paw prints, no enthusiastic tail wags.

P.j : Where are the… the other ones?" P.J. finally managed to meow, though the sound felt strangely small in the cavernous space.

P.J : The big, noisy ones? The ones that bark?"

The tabby’s intelligent eyes narrowed, a ripple of disdain passing over its face.

Tabby: Dogs?

Tabby: Oh, those tiresome, slobbering creatures. They were… culled, Centuries ago.

Tabby: Their chaotic energy, their incessant barking, their utter lack of grace – it simply wasn't conducive to societal harmony.

Tabby: We replaced their function with specialized Human Units for protection and retrieval. It gestured with a paw towards a heavily muscled human standing rigidly by a far door.

P.J.'s fur bristled. Dogs. Gone? He thought of Jazie! ( the wanna be Golden Retriever next to being better than all of Tinashe other animals, whose boisterous greetings and clumsy attempts to play had always irritated him, yet were a constant, comforting presence. Jazie, who'd sometimes leave him an accidental dropped treat. Jazie, who Micheal always fussed over too much. Jazie, who was there for P.J.)

A wave of profound sadness, deeper than any disappointment over non-salmon kibble, washed over P.J.

This was a cat paradise, yes, but it felt cold, empty, the humans were servants, not companions. There was no joyful chaos, no shared naps on the sofa, no warm, gentle hand stroking his fur without being commanded.

He missed Micheal in what would be hell for him!

He missed the echo of his yell. He even missed Jazie’s annoying bark!

The KitCat, It had to be the KitCat. He’d eaten it from the dresser that leap in the future. In his future? Unsettling.

He looked around desperately, the gleaming surfaces oppressive, the serene, ruling cats almost terrifying in their perfection. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his lumpy bathmat, his boring kibble, his sunbeam. He wanted Micheal’s hand, even if he was distracted by the glowing rectangle that help him look for Tinashe.

P.J. closed his eyes, squeezing them tight, remembering the sweet, chocolatey taste.

He focused on it, on the warmth of the sunbeam, on the feel of Micheal's fingers. He concentrated on the crunch of the KitCat, willing the sensation backwards.

He wished with all his feline might for the mundane, messy reality of his own time.

A dizzying lurch?

The metallic scent vanished, replaced by laundry detergent and dust, the hum faded into the distant drone of a lawnmower.
The cool, artificial light was replaced by the familiar orange glow of the afternoon sun.

P.J. opened his eyes… He was on the floor beside the table?

The KitCat more than half-eaten lays beside him, a tiny, incriminating wrapper next to it.

In the room, Micheal was still engrossed in her phone, utterly oblivious.

He jumped down, landing softly on the carpet. For a moment, he simply stood there, trembling, his tail held low.

Then, he padded into the living room. Jazie, the wanna be Golden Retriever, was sprawled across the cool tiles, snoring gently, a puddle of drool by his jowls.

P.J. walked over, sniffed at Jazie’s ear, then, uncharacteristically, nudged his head gently. Jazie stirred, let out a soft groan, then blinked his black & white eyes open, looking at P.J. with mild confusion.

P.J. then trotted over to Micheal, hopped onto his lap, and proceeded to knead his chest with an intensity usually reserved for the softest blankets. Micheal, startled, looked down.

Micheal: Oh! Now you love me P.J.? What's gotten into you, buddy?" he chuckled, putting her phone down to stroke P.J head.

P.J. purred, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through Micheal hand.

It was a purr of relief!

A purr of gratitude. A purr that said, This messy, imperfect, dog-filled, human-ruled world… this is my world. And I wouldn’t trade it for all the tuna-scented polished chrome in 2099.

From that day on, P.J. never again looked at a closed drawer without a shiver, and he developed a strange, newfound tolerance for Jazie’s slobbery presence. And he absolutely, positively, never, ever went near another KitCat.

P.J. the orange cat was, by all accounts, a creature of simple pleasures. A sunbeam on the worn rug, a fresh bowl of salmon-flavored kibble, and the rhythmic thump of his human’s hand stroking his back.

The shiver whenever a drawer clicked shut became a permanent fixture in P.J.'s feline psyche.

He'd eyes them with a wary respect, often opting for the highest shelves or the back of the sofa as his napping spots, far from any potential mechanical entrapment.

His formerly impeccable batting skills, once honed on the very handles that had imprisoned him, were now reserved for airborne dust motes, safer, less threatening foes.

As for Jazie, the change was equally profound!

The border disputes over sunbeams ceased, replaced by a grudging truce. P.J. no longer launched himself off the back of the couch at the sight of the lumbering dog, and Jazie, sensing the shift, offered fewer clumsy attempts at play.

Sometimes, to the astonishment of their human, they could even be found napping in the same room, Jazie a warm, snoring backdrop to P.J.'s elegant repose.

Once, Jazie even nudged a dropped toy towards P.J., who, instead of snarling, merely flicked an ear, an almost imperceptible acknowledgement of their shared, albeit strange, existence.

The KitCat, however, remained his ultimate nemesis. A wrapper crinkling in the next room was enough to send him streaking under the bed, a four-legged blur of terror.

His mind, bewildered, tried once to offer him a small piece, thinking perhaps he'd just had a bad experience with that particular aged brand.

P.J. reacted with a hiss so potent, so ancient, it convinced the thoughts that their beloved cat had simply developed a very strong, and very personal, aversion to chocolate.

But beneath these quirks, a quiet contentment settled over P.J. ?

He still ruled the house, of course, but now with a benevolent, well-adjusted paw.

He’d watch his humans, their loud, busy lives, and Jazie…their perpetually happy, slobbering chaos, and bark.

A deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the very floorboards. It was the purr of a cat who had faced his ultimate fear and found his true place in a world that, despite its occasional terrifying surprises, was undeniably and gloriously in “crossing that line”.

THE END