Rody's morning started like any other: with the weight of a thirty-pound cat sprawled across his chest, a set of emerald-green eyes boring down at him like laser beams, and a pair of whiskers tickling his face aggressively.
"Vincent... buddy... little personal space?" Rody wheezed, attempting to lift his head, only for a hefty paw to press against his cheek, pinning him down with all the stubborn force of a determined house cat.
Vincent, the cat in question, was no ordinary feline. Clad in sleek, midnight-black fur with a white patch over one eye (Rody joked it was a "pirate patch" and Vincent always glared in response), he looked like something out of a luxury pet commercial. Unfortunately, Vincent's personality was more... well, Rody-centric. And territorial. Very, very territorial.
Vincent gave a slow, deliberate blink-what the internet told Rody was a "cat kiss," but in this case, it felt more like a possessive glare. Rody tried again to sit up, but Vincent's weight only seemed to increase, somehow becoming an immovable boulder.
"Vincent, come on, I have to get up and-"
But Vincent stayed planted, tail swishing with lazy defiance. Any attempt to shift resulted in a swift, firm slap from Vincent's paw.
"Okay, okay, I get it," Rody groaned, raising his hands in surrender. "But if I don't get up, you don't get your breakfast, and we both know how you feel about that."
At the mention of "breakfast," Vincent's ears perked up, and with a dramatic sigh (the most his royal highness would ever offer as compromise), he finally stepped off Rody's chest, stretching each leg as though it were an enormous effort.
As Rody stumbled into the kitchen, Vincent pranced ahead, weaving between his legs in a way that would be cute if it weren't for the fact that Rody almost tripped. Rody fumbled for the cat food and served Vincent his meal in a polished, stainless steel bowl-the only one Vincent had ever accepted, as he had rejected every other bowl with an indignant flick of his tail.
The peace of breakfast, however, was quickly disrupted when Rody's phone buzzed with a text from his friend, Theo.
> *Hey! Want to grab lunch today?*
Vincent's ears flicked, and he shot Rody a look that could only be described as suspicious.
"Oh, relax, Vince," Rody muttered, texting back a quick *"Sure, sounds good!"*.
Vincent finished his breakfast in record time and then hopped onto the counter, sitting directly in Rody's line of sight, his green eyes narrowed.
"Oh no," Rody said, realizing what was coming next. "Don't give me that look, dude. You're not coming to lunch."
But Vincent didn't seem to think that was an option. Instead, he did what he always did when he wanted Rody's attention: he headbutted his phone out of Rody's hand with a loud *clatter*.
"Vincent!" Rody cried, but Vincent only rubbed his head against Rody's arm with a smug purr, tail flicking with satisfaction. Then, he meowed-a loud, insistent sound that was way too close to "stay here" for comfort.
"Sorry, buddy," Rody said, scooping up his phone and grabbing his jacket. "I'm going out, and *you're* staying home. This is non-negotiable."
Vincent's eyes flashed dangerously. He was a cat of many emotions, and "wrathful jealousy" was currently in full effect.
---
When Rody returned from lunch later, Theo chuckling over their time together, he opened the door to find Vincent glaring at him from the entryway, looking every bit like a spurned lover.
Rody held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, I get it! I went out without you. It was just lunch, you know!"
Vincent sniffed haughtily, as if saying, *Just lunch? With that Theo character? Really?*
Rody tried to push past him, but Vincent zigzagged in front of his legs with a determined meow, tripping him up.
"Vincent, for crying out loud!"
Rody stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall, while Vincent rubbed against his legs, purring loudly as if to claim him back after his "betrayal." It would've been endearing if Vincent didn't look so sinister about it, like a mob boss who'd just made Rody an offer he couldn't refuse.
---
Later that night, Theo came by to watch a movie at Rody's place. Vincent sat directly between them on the couch, eyes narrowed into slits as he kept his gaze locked on Theo.
Theo tried to pet him once, which was met with an audible *hiss* and a swift swat to the hand.
"Whoa, alright, buddy, message received!" Theo laughed, moving his hand back.
"Sorry," Rody said sheepishly. "He... doesn't share very well."
Theo snorted. "Doesn't *share*? Rody, I think he wants me dead."
Vincent shot Theo a glare, his tail twitching irritably.
The evening progressed with Vincent sitting like a self-appointed chaperone, his body wedged so firmly between Rody and Theo that any attempt at casual conversation was met with Vincent's laser-like stare. If Rody so much as leaned toward Theo, Vincent's fur would start to puff up, his eyes growing darker.
Eventually, Theo had enough and left with a hurried goodbye, muttering something about "possessive pets." Rody shut the door behind him and turned back to Vincent, who was now sprawled luxuriously on the couch, victorious.
"You know, this is why I don't have more friends," Rody sighed.
Vincent, however, looked wholly unbothered, grooming his paws with casual satisfaction. To him, Theo's departure was a job well done.
---
Over the next few days, Vincent took his role as self-appointed "guardian of Rody's attention" to new levels. If Rody talked on the phone, Vincent would jump onto his lap, shoving his face against Rody's with a loud *mrrrrow*. Any attempt at working on his laptop was thwarted by Vincent sprawling across the keyboard, his paws "accidentally" closing tabs or deleting files.
One evening, Rody had a date with a woman named Clara. Vincent, naturally, sat on the table between them, eyes narrowed like a bouncer at a club.
"Aw, he's so cute," Clara cooed, reaching to pet him.
Vincent's eyes went wide, then narrowed to furious slits. His tail began to lash.
Rody winced. "Uh, maybe don't-"
Before he could finish, Vincent let out a loud, offended yowl and swatted Clara's hand with alarming precision.
Clara pulled her hand back, laughing nervously. "Wow, he's really attached to you, huh?"
"That's... one way to put it," Rody muttered, giving Vincent a glare. But Vincent, ever the diva, simply began grooming himself, as if Clara were beneath his notice.
The date ended early.
---
One night, exhausted after another Vincent-induced "friend exodus," Rody plopped onto his bed. Vincent immediately leaped up beside him, curling up into a ball on Rody's chest. It was the closest Vincent came to "I'm sorry," though the faint glint in his eyes told Rody it was more like, *You're welcome.*
Rody sighed, running a hand over Vincent's soft fur. "You know, you can't just drive everyone away forever."
Vincent purred contentedly, closing his eyes. If he had a response, it was probably along the lines of, *Watch me.*
