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Daily stories

Sunday peekaboo

It was unusually quiet.

No paws galloping across the floor. No toys flying. No midair tackles.

Just a peaceful hoomin in bed, enjoying a rare moment of stillness.

That peace lasted exactly 6.5 minutes.

From the living room came a rising murmur—muffled voices, energetic thumps, and a suspicious squeak.

The hoomin cracked one eye open.

Hoomin (yawning):

“Morning conference again? Must be the Zoomie Summit…”

Still half-asleep, he wandered into the kitchen and served two fresh bowls of breakfast noms.

Benno strutted in immediately, tail held high.

Hoomin:

“There’s the reliable one. Morning, Benno. Where’s your partner-in-crime?”

Benno just blinked slowly and began munching—very casually.

Lohe was nowhere to be seen.

Hoomin (calling out):

“Lohe? Breakfast time!”

No response.

Then… a giggle.

A faint, mysterious giggle.

Hoomin (squinting):

“Wait a second… do cats even giggle?!”

He peeked under the bed.

He opened the wardrobe.

He even checked behind the curtains.

Benno followed him around, doing a suspiciously bad job at “helping.”

Benno (pretending):

“Try the bathroom. He might be brushing his whiskers.”

Hoomin:

“…That’s not how anything works, Benno.”

Suddenly, tap-tap.

Something brushed hoomin’s head.

He froze.

Looked up.

There, camouflaged like a jungle ninja, was Lohe—perched on top of the bookshelf, perfectly still, beside the fake plant.

Only his eyes moved.

And his whiskers twitched with suppressed glee.

Lohe (whispering to Benno):

“He didn’t see me! I am the bookshelf.”

Benno:

“I think you’re the plant.”

Hoomin decided to play along.

He walked dramatically into the hallway.

Hoomin (loudly):

“Well, no Lohe here. Maybe he evaporated… Guess I’ll eat both breakfasts myself!”

Lohe’s pupils went full saucer mode.

Lohe (to Benno, panicked):

“HE’S GONNA EAT MY BREAKFAST! Initiate Phase 2!”

But before Phase 2 could begin, hoomin sneaked silently back into the room, stood directly under the bookshelf and—

“PEEKABOO!”

“SURPRISE!”

Lohe startled into a spaghetti noodle shape and yelped:

“He’s got wizard powers!”

Benno rolled on the floor laughing.

Benno:

“Next time pick the closet, genius.”

Lohe (regaining cool):

“No. The high ground is key. Obi-Wan said so.”

All was forgiven when breakfast was served again (Lohe’s bowl hadn’t been touched, after all).

The hoomin smiled at his two goofballs and whispered:

Hoomin:

“You two are my chaos. And I love every bit of it.”

Benno purred.

Lohe licked his paw dramatically and said:

“We know. You’re welcome.”

Categories
Daily stories

Slow sunday

It was a slow, sunny Sunday.
The hoomin was deep in sleep, dreaming of a world without emails, when he suddenly felt a presence.

Something… was watching.
From very close range.

He cracked open one eye—
Benno.
Sitting by the bed, eyes wide, tail neatly curled, conducting a silent psychic scan.

Benno (whispering to himself): “Still sleeping. Suspiciously peaceful. Breathing… snack-deep?”
Lohe’s voice echoed from the other room:
“Leave him. The longer he sleeps, the better the treats. It’s scientifically proven.”

Benno (whispering): “But what if he’s pretending? He could ambush us with cuddles.”
Lohe: “Unlikely. We’ve established a firm no-touch treaty… unless initiated by us.”

What the boys didn’t know:
Hoomin was absolutely awake, smiling into his pillow.
He waited until Benno leaned in just a little too far…

“BOO.”
Benno levitated like a startled loaf.

Benno: “GAAAAH! He’s alive?!”
Lohe: “Retreat! Retreat with dignity!”

Hoomin burst out laughing.

Hoomin: “Okay, you weirdos. You win. Breakfast it is—with extra goodies.”
Benno (recovering fast): “Fear was part of the plan. Motivational tactic.”
Lohe: “I calculated the bounce trajectory precisely.”

They got their breakfast—full bowls, a spoon of luxury wet food, and a few “just because” treats.
Purring satisfaction echoed faintly in the kitchen tiles.

And then, The Big Announcement:

Hoomin: “I’m staying home all day today. No errands. Just us.”

Benno (gasps): “He’s OURS today!”
Lohe (serious): “Then we must honor this with wild athletic nonsense.”

AND ZOOMIES WERE UNLEASHED.

Benno darted between sofa legs and launched into midair like a flying dumpling.
Lohe did a precision side-crab walk down the hallway and then flopped in a majestic, slow-motion twist onto the rug.
A toy mouse flew from the balcony into the kitchen with zero explanation.

When the storm finally settled, the boys loafed nearby, blinking slowly at the hoomin who was now laying on the floor, still laughing.

Benno (quietly): “We know we’re still a bit… shy.”
Lohe: “Still don’t love being touched. But…”
Benno: “But playtime with you is everything.”
Lohe: “And this home. Our forever place. That’s priceless.”
Benno: “We show it by leaving toys on your bed and stealing your socks.”
Lohe: “We care. Deeply. Just… in our own perfectly odd way.”

Sunday morning ends not just with wild zoomies and bellyfuls of snacks,
but with two tuxedo boys quietly reminding their hoomin that even without cuddles,
their hearts are fully his.