London and Kiki

London, a spirited three-year-old with wild curls and an imagination to match, had decided that her best friend in the world was Kiki, the family’s enormous white cat. Kiki wasn’t just a big cat—she was a fluffy cloud of cat, nearly as tall as London when standing on her hind legs, and as calm as a Buddha statue.

One sunny afternoon, London had a grand idea. Grabbing a scarf from the couch, she fashioned it into a makeshift bridle and looped it (gently) around Kiki’s neck. “Come on, Kiki!” she squealed. “We’re going to the park!” Kiki, as patient as ever, blinked her golden eyes and let London climb aboard. Unfortunately for London, riding a fluffy cat is about as effective as riding a marshmallow. Kiki simply stretched, turned, and flopped onto her side, leaving London giggling on the rug.

Undeterred, London declared, “Fine, you’re not a horse. You’re a baby!” She ran over to her toy box, returning with a doll-sized dress and a tiny bonnet. Kiki, who had long since resigned herself to London’s whims, allowed herself to be dressed, though her ears stuck out of the bonnet at odd angles. “Perfect!” London exclaimed, spinning Kiki around the living room in a wobbly waltz. Kiki’s fluffy tail swished in time, whether out of rhythm or resignation, no one could tell.

Later, London decided to carry Kiki like a sack of potatoes. “It’s naptime, Kiki!” she chirped, her little arms barely managing to lift the plush cat’s substantial bulk. Kiki, sensing the inevitability of it all, draped herself over London’s shoulder. Together, they collapsed into a pillow fort, where London sang a very out-of-tune lullaby until she dozed off, her tiny hand resting on Kiki’s furry belly.

Through it all, Kiki remained the epitome of grace and patience. She might have been dressed up, danced with, and lugged around like a sack of flour, but she never once hissed or clawed. Perhaps she knew that her three-year-old human was as full of love as she was full of energy.

When mom peeked into the living room later that evening, she found the pair fast asleep—London snoring softly, Kiki purring like a motorboat. It was a moment of pure peace, the calm after a tiny tornado of giggles and games.

“That cat deserves a medal,” whispered Mom.

“Or at least a snack,” Nikki added.

And so, Kiki was rewarded with a feast fit for a queen—because being the best friend of a three-year-old is no small feat!