Today, the sky opened up and dumped an endless torrent of water on my kingdom. All day, the world outside was a cold, gray mess, with leaves plastered to the sidewalk and humans huddled under ridiculous portable tents they call “umbrellas.” I usually ignore the rain—after all, I have plenty of fur for warmth and a human for entertainment. But today, something spectacular happened.
As I was about to settle down for my 10 a.m. nap, I noticed the rain on the window. Raindrops! Hundreds of them, racing each other down the glass like tiny, speedy prey. I felt a primal urge awaken within me. Those drops needed to be taught a lesson.
With my catly reflexes primed, I slinked up to the window, positioning myself like a fearsome jungle panther. I extended one deadly paw and swiped at a fat raindrop as it slid down, taunting me with its wobbly descent. But this raindrop was a slippery little foe. I swiped again and missed, and it vanished into the window frame. How dare it?
The human noticed my battle stance and said, “Oh, Gryzka, that’s cute.” Cute? She was oblivious to the fact that this was the single most serious training session of my life. This was no game; it was an art form, a demonstration of ultimate feline grace and strategy.
I focused, locking onto a new drop. This one was perfect: chubby, slow, and leaving a tantalizing trail in its wake. I readied myself, crouching with precision only a true hunter possesses. And just as I made my move, the human decided it was a great moment to join in. She came over with her camera, cooing in that silly voice, “Who’s a cute little rain catcher?”
Doesn’t she know? I’m Gryzka the Great, legendary Rain Drop Hunter! My honor and concentration were compromised, and I swatted at the drop clumsily, missing by a hair’s breadth. It slipped away in victory, mocking me with its watery retreat.
But no drop can evade me for long. Once my human lost interest (finally), I resumed my chase, now determined to prove myself. I watched them more closely, studying their patterns. Some drops were fast; they raced to the bottom, a blur of movement I couldn’t quite catch. Others were slow and graceful, giving me a false sense of hope before dodging my paw at the last second.
Hours passed, and I was in the zone. My entire world narrowed down to those glass-bound droplets. My face was so close to the window that my whiskers were smushed, but I didn’t care. I was on a mission.
Then, a particularly fierce opponent emerged. It started high up, gathering its strength, and made a beeline down the glass like it was determined to outpace me. I braced myself, every muscle taut, my paw at the ready. But just as I was about to strike, another drop appeared right beside it, faster and shinier, distracting me. I panicked, doing a rapid series of double-paw slaps at both drops, but they slipped away like ghosts, leaving me with nothing but tiny paw smudges on the window.
Exasperated, I slumped down on the windowsill, my pride wounded. But just as I was about to give up, I noticed something miraculous. There was one final raindrop, the biggest and shiniest of them all, dangling tantalizingly from the very top of the window. It moved so slowly, almost as if it was waiting for me to make the first move. This was it—the boss level of raindrops. The ultimate challenge.
Summoning every ounce of catly strength, I crouched, tensed, and leaped up, paws fully extended. I could see the drop coming closer, my claws just about to tap it—when suddenly, the rain stopped.
I blinked in disbelief. The sky had cleared, the raindrop vanished into nothingness, and all that was left was my defeated reflection, staring back at me. I sat back, my tail twitching in frustration. The human returned, patting me on the head, still chuckling about my “adorable little antics.”
Well, she doesn’t understand. She’ll never understand the epic battle I fought today or the rain drop empire that slipped through my claws. But the next rainy day? I’ll be ready. The raindrops may have won this round, but the war is far from over.
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