Zooming Through the Night

 Winter blues? Not for me! Who needs a cozy nap when there are zoomies to be had? This month, I’ve perfected the art of the Midnight Zoomie, and let me tell you, it's nothing short of a spectacle.

It all starts when the humans are nice and comfy in their warm beds. I wait until I hear that soft, rhythmic snoring—snore, snore, snore—and then, with the grace of a tiny lion on caffeine, I make my move.

I begin with the stir. I hop off the couch, stretch my legs, give a big yawn, and look around like I’m thinking of something important. The humans barely notice. I eye my target—the hallway. It’s long, narrow, and perfect for a full-speed sprint.

Then, without warning, I charge. Full throttle, claws out, tail straight behind me like a rocket. I zip through the hall, skidding like a pro at the corners, my paws tapping a symphony on the floorboards. I’m a blur of fur, and I know it’s a good one because I can hear the human’s muffled “Gryzka, what are you doing?” from the other room. It’s a beautiful sound, their confusion.

But I’m not done. Oh no. The real fun begins when I hit the turnaround. You see, this isn't just a race—it’s a series of obstacles. I speed down the hallway, leap over the armchair like a graceful gazelle, and execute the perfect U-turn, catching the rug as I slide past it. It’s a work of art.

The human stirs. I hear their sleepy mumble, “No, no, no, not again…” but it’s too late. I’m already off again—this time, through the living room, weaving between the coffee table and the couch with Olympic-level agility. A crash? Oh, that was just me knocking over a vase. No biggie. The mission must continue.

At this point, the human has reached the peak of confusion, sitting up in bed, blinking like they’ve just seen a comet. I look them in the eye, puff my tail out in victory, and zip straight into the kitchen. A few circles around the table and back again—now that’s a proper zoomie routine.

But it doesn’t end there. I go in for the final dramatic leap—straight onto the back of the couch. I sit, calmly lick my paw, and glance over at the human who’s still in a daze. “What?” I say with my eyes. “Wasn’t that fun? You should try it sometime.”

The humans never do. But I’ll be honest, I’m already planning my next midnight race. Winter may be cold, but with these zoomies, I’ll make sure the house stays lively—and the humans stay perpetually on edge.