Then it hit me.
I had forgotten to feed Luna.
The apartment was silent, except for the faint, accusatory thump of her tail against the hardwood floor. She sat in the middle of the kitchen, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her little kingdom in revolt.
I rushed to her food cabinet, fumbling with the bag of kibble, only to find it nearly empty. My guilt doubled. I had been promising myself for weeks to set up that Automatic Smart Pet Feeder I’d bought online, the one still in its unopened box in the corner.
Luna let out a slow, drawn-out mrrrow—not hunger, but betrayal. I poured the last crumbs into her bowl, but she didn’t touch it. She just stared at me, as if weighing whether to forgive me or start plotting my demise.
I ripped open the box and set up the feeder like my life depended on it. The sleek machine whirred to life, dispensing a perfect portion of fresh food. Luna’s ears perked up, her tail twitched, and just like that, I was back in her good graces… mostly.
But I’ll never forget the cold judgment in her eyes that day. And I’ll never forget to use the Automatic Smart Pet Feeder again.
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