It started with one simple rule: don’t touch the vacuum cord. 

Naturally, Wick ignored it first. He sat there, tail twitching, staring at the coiled black line like it was a snake that dared enter his kingdom. One swat became two, and soon the cord was dancing across the floor. 

Tigra joined in, because curiosity is her middle name. She pawed at it, flipped it, then looked at me like “It moved first.” 

Quigley barked encouragement, bouncing in circles. In his mind, this was clearly a group project. 

By the time I came back with the laundry, the vacuum had tipped, the cord looked like a pretzel, and three very innocent faces were staring up at me. 

Wick blinked slowly.

 Tigra flicked her tail.

 Quigley wagged. 

“The cord made us do it,” their expressions said. 

And honestly… I kind of believed them.