In the quiet hours of the early morning, Barnaby assumed his post upon the White Plains. With his chest puffed out a magnificent expanse of snowy white fur he looked less like a playful companion and more like a mythical beast guarding a sacred temple. His ear tufts twitched, picking up the subtle vibrations of the waking world. He sat with perfect posture, his tail wrapped neatly around his paws, watching the tall ones scurry about with his golden eyes filled with a mixture of pity and judgment.
He was the anchor of the household, the stoic observer who ensured that order was maintained. In his mind, he was not merely existing in this space, he was ruling it. Every curtain flutter and every creak of the floorboards was subject to his approval.
But maintaining such a high level of dignity is exhausting work. As the afternoon light warmed the room, Barnaby decided his watch had officially ended. He retreated to his High Tower, a beige perch that offered the best vantage point in the territory.
There, the stoic soldier melted away. He sank into the plush basket, his body becoming liquid comfort. His large, fluffy paws dangled over the edge, surrendering to gravity, while his gaze softened into a sleepy, cynical squint. He was no longer the rigid guard, he was a puddle of fur, silently demanding silence so he could focus on his nap. From this elevated throne, he could still see everything, but now, he chose to ignore it all, drifting into dreams of chasing things he would never actually run after.
Shannon Willis can usually be found in the company of furry friends. A passionate animal enthusiast, her work is often inspired by her deep love for cats, dogs, and the animal kingdom as a whole.
