After a crazy storm last summer, I heard tiny meows coming from a tree. There she was, soaked, barely a pound, and hanging on for dear life. I rescued her, and she’s been running the household with chaotic energy ever since. We named her Misty after the storm, but she earned the nickname Baddie Face Killer for her intense stare and general unbothered menace. She’s small but terrifyingly in charge.

   

She’s a little gremlin, but she’s my gremlin. She's wild, confident, fearless, and completely herself, plus, she survived a storm and came out swinging.

She rides around on my back like she’s my emotional support goblin. She pounces from counters, launches sneak attacks, and gives people the look before disappearing like smoke. She's got Batman villain energy in a kitten body.

She once leapt off the fridge onto my shoulder just to ride along as I made coffee, like it was totally normal. It’s giving “emotional support assassin.”