Flipping Out

The morning started with a scent so divine, so hypnotizing, that I, Gryzka the Magnificent, awoke from my deep slumber with my nose twitching like a finely tuned pancake radar.

Something special was happening in the kitchen. Something buttery. Something warm. Something… absolutely, without a doubt, made for me.

I strutted in to investigate. Ania was at the stove, flipping golden, perfect, fluffy circles in the air.

Pancakes.

I sat down and gave her my most refined, elegant stare—the one that says, You are lucky to have me, now hand over the tribute.

She did not.

Instead, she mumbled, “Not for kitties, Gryzka,” and turned back to her pan.

A betrayal.

I would not stand for this. A plan was needed.

Phase One: The Innocent Bystander Approach

I settled on the counter, pretending to be deeply uninterested. Ania flipped another pancake. I extended one elegant paw, ever so slowly…

“Gryzka, no.”

Foiled.

Phase Two: The Distraction Technique

I jumped onto the floor and let out a dramatic yowl, pretending I had just suffered the worst injustice known to catkind.

Ania turned around.

I leaped!

A perfect, precise strike toward the plate of pancakes—

But Spurka, ever the little spy, must have sensed my plan and chose this exact moment to run under my feet.

I tripped. The pancake stack wobbled.

Ania gasped.

The spatula flew from her hand like a boomerang.

And the pancake she was flipping? It took off, soaring through the air in slow motion, straight toward the ceiling.

For one glorious moment, I saw my future: a pancake landing perfectly onto my waiting paws, a victory so sweet I could already taste it.

Instead, it stuck to the ceiling.

Silence.

Ania blinked. I blinked. Spurka, the traitor, sat down and started licking her paw like none of this concerned her.

Then, ever so slowly, the pancake peeled itself from the ceiling and—

SPLAT. Right onto my head.

Ania gasped in horror.

I sat there, pancake-crowned, feeling the ultimate humiliation. Kitka, from her chair, let out a tiny snort.

Then Ania started laughing. And laughing. She peeled the pancake off my fur, still laughing, and set it aside. “Alright, alright,” she sighed. “You get a tiny bit.”

Victory.

Was it worth the pancake-to-the-face humiliation? Perhaps.

Would I try again next year?

Absolutely.