“Oh, dear lord, Tom!” As the tabby swept from under the cat latch, she had snuck her way in just in time to see a domestic dispute unfold right before her very eyes, one that was much more kind and sweet in nature than … well, really anything. Her two owners – who she’d known as Tom and Addison ever since she was a tiny, tiny kitten – were almost sickeningly sweet in their relationship, gentle and soft and kind and loving. It came to Micheala suddenly that she’d never even seen a real fight between the elderly couple, and that anything even treading the lines of a “fight” was always patched up with jokes and hugs and kisses in mere seconds.

“Whaaat?” Micheala easily picked up the responding voice as Tom’s as she slunk around the corner. “Is there something wrong?”

If there was anything the tabby could note about her favorite owner (though she wouldn’t ever admit it, of course, she could hurt Addison’s feelings, and Addison mattered too!), it was that he had a strong sense of benignity and innocence she’d never seen in anyone else. His words were always pronounced softly and kindly, so sweetly said it almost ached your heart to hear. So sweet, it almost made you afraid, for it felt like the world would trample all over such a sincere soul.

As Micheala rounded the table, her eyes quickly picked up what was wrong. Now sitting across from her was Tom, dirt and dust smudged on every possible crevice of his face and hair twisted into the most complicated of rat nests. However, his eyes were trained on his wife, neither realizing their pet had come for a greeting.

“Really?” Addison huffed, and without another warning, she whipped out a hairbrush and began belligerently combing through Tom’s hair. “How’d you even do this, Tom? You look’a wreck, Christ almighty!”

If there was one thing about Addison, on the other hand, it was that she was very, very neat. “Well, you know the chickens-“ Cleanliness was something that had apparently ran strong in her bloodline (Micheala would know, she had heard them discussing it before!), and it clashed head-on with Tom’s down-to-earth attitude and slightly slobbish manners. “Of course I do, but our own cat attracts less flies and crap than you, Tommy, and she always hangs around in that darned barn!“ He was the politest person to ever exist (and also the absolute best), but he as well got dirtier than practically anyone. Did dirt just come to him like that, like a magnet? He never tried to get dirty or anything. Micheala let out a fat yawn, her own ponderings starting to tire her out, along with the day’s work.

Almost immediately, both adults swung their heads in complete unison towards the tabby. She met them just as fast, round blue eyes aglow and another small, soft mew peeping itself from between her jaws. Even if neither said anything, Micheala kind of felt like they could understand her – at least, she knew Tom could. She always knew that he could – he was special, after all. “She’s…” the man trailed off as the plump tabby made a lopsided attempt to her paws and scampered over hastily, finishing her short journey by slithering her way onto the couch.

There, Micheala dipped softly under Tom’s touch, pressing her head up against his hand. The elderly man responded in tune with simple strokes all over the she-cat’s body, and a warm, sunny-like happiness worked its way up onto his face.

“She’s not just any cat, though,” Tom remarked, a soft chuckle punctuating his words. “She’s Micheala – my Micheala, our Micheala.”

“Our little mouser,” the sides of Addison’s mouth followed suit, perking up into a small smile. “And she came to us like a lil ol’ miracle, too!”

“Miracle mouser Micheala.” Her – a miracle?! And she considered both Tom and Addison her heroes!

She peered up softly at the two, who crooned over her with rough yet gentle hands. “She’ll always keep the rats out of the chicken coop,” the older lady said softly. With that, she took back her hands and scurried back to her mass of cleaning supplies, fishing out a rag and a spray bottle with fickle fingers. “Now, Tommy, you better keep yourself clean. I ain’t gonna mother you over here.”

Tom only chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t want that in the first place, darling.”

The two had always had such a sweet relationship, Micheala thought. They just … always had so much love and care in their eyes, and rarely ever fought (if they ever did, it was always playful and toned so kindly it would still be impossible to decode). She thought she was incredibly lucky to have such kind owners.

As she dipped one last time under Tom’s touch, she plopped herself down and curled up in his lap instead, enjoying the heat radiating from the window. Life… was good. Great. It was great on this farm, with colorful and kind friends, a home that always stood within comfortable range and similarity – Micheala could not ask for more. It was a perfect home.

Life was good on the farm.