Clover’s Super-Secret Diary

A rainy day, a stolen sock, several irritated cats, and one very tired older brother.

Dear Diary,

Today is the worst best day ever.

The backyard has turned into a giant soup. I begged Dad to let me go splash in it but he said, “No, Clover, it’s flooded,” which I think is grown-up for “I hate joy.”

So I had to zoom inside.

Which is... amazing but illegal.

Copper said, “Please don’t.”

So I did.

A LOT.

I body-slammed the couch.

I stole a sock.

I ran laps so fast I swear I teleported.

I think I might actually be lightning.

The cats are mad again.

Squirt hissed at me like a broken sprinkler.

Nutmeg vanished into the fridge somehow (???).

Peanut tried to boop me in the eye and missed.

Victory!

Dad made the “tired dad noise”™

It’s kind of a sigh mixed with a groan and the word “Clover.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him.

Copper is pretending he doesn’t love me.

But I saw him smile when I curled up next to him after my final zoom.

(It was a medium zoom. I had more but Dad said no.)

Anyway.

Still raining.

Still trapped.

Still full of beans.

Tomorrow I shall escape.

Or chew my way through the wall.

Or become one with the puddles.

Zooms forever,

Love, Clover

P.S. If you are reading this and you're a cat: I’m sorry but also not. Your tails are very fun.