Ryba

The Great Box Heist. One day a package arrived. An ordinary cardboard box. Within 0.3 seconds Ryba was inside it. For the next 48 hours she defended that box with her life — ears back, paw swatting at anyone who came within one meter. The box was hers. She slept in it. She ate next to it (she dragged her bowl over). When we finally recycled it a week later she gave us a look of pure betrayal and refused to make eye contact for three whole hours.

The Midnight Zoomies Protocol. Every night at exactly 2:17 AM — never 2:16, never 2:18 — Ryba activates what scientists call The Zoomies. She sprints from the bedroom to the living room, slides across the wooden floor, bounces off the sofa, and gallops back. Repeat 14 times. Then she stops, looks at you as if to say "what? it's cardio," and falls asleep on your face. This happens with the precision of a Swiss train. We've tried adjusting her dinner time. It made no difference. 2:17 AM. Every night. Ryba does not negotiate with terrorists.

The Keyboard Conspiracy. Ryba has a PhD in Obstruction Studies. Whenever a laptop is opened within her field of vision, she materializes instantly and walks directly across the keyboard. Not around it. Across it. She has sent seventeen half-typed messages, applied for three credit cards, and once ordered 12 kg of catnip before we caught her. She maintains eye contact the entire time. She knows what she's doing. She regrets nothing.