Chapter 1

I had a cat and a dog, and I always thought I was living the dream.

Until one morning, I overheard voices coming from the living room.

The dog said, "She won't let me poop in the house."

The cat replied, "Yeah, but you should smell her when she comes out of the bathroom."

"So why does she get to go inside," the dog complained, "and I have to go outside?"

That devil-spawn voice—was that really coming from my sweet cat?

*****

I had always thought that having pets was incredibly rewarding.

I had both a cat and a dog. The cat was Muffin, three years old, a British Shorthair with a round face. The dog was Sunny, two and a half, a golden retriever whose grin was pure sunshine.

My friends always said I was living the dream. "Jessica, you're basically living the life of a parent with kids already."

I thought so too. Right up until that Saturday morning, when I slept in and called out for Sunny and Muffin while I was still half awake.

Muffin didn't respond. I squeezed out a tube of cat treats for her and then went to the bathroom.

As I flushed the toilet, I heard some rustling in the living room. That was normal. Muffin and Sunny always had their morning workout, which basically meant chasing each other around.

Then I heard voices. One sounded a bit slow and clueless. "She won't let me poop in the house."

The other was cool and laid-back. "Yeah, but you should smell her when she comes out of the bathroom."

"So why does she get to go inside and I have to go outside?"

The soap nearly slipped from my hand as I trembled. I stiffly turned around and peeked out through the bathroom door. Muffin was crouched on the back of the sofa, licking her paw. Sunny was lying by the coffee table, chewing on a teething stick.

Sunlight streamed through the window. The scene was so cozy it could have been on the cover of a pet magazine.

But those things I just heard... Had I imagined them? It had to be a side effect of staying up late rushing a proposal the night before.

I took a deep breath and pretended nothing was wrong, continuing to wash my hands.

From the living room, both furballs looked over at the same time.

Sunny tilted his head, eyes clear and innocent. Muffin yawned, showing her little pink tongue.

But I clearly heard them.

"Didn't you hear her calling you just now?" Sunny asked.

"I pretended not to. That way, she gives me a cat treat," Muffin replied.

Sunny burst out laughing.

I was completely stunned. Those ridiculous voices were actually coming from Sunny and Muffin.

To test this insane theory, I deliberately ate blue cheese pasta right in front of Muffin.

Blue cheese was Muffin's mortal enemy. Every time I ate it, she would flee to the balcony and point her butt straight at me. Sunny didn't seem to care much, but even he kept his distance.

At noon, I cooked myself a huge bowl of blue cheese pasta with extra cheese. The kind of smell so strong even I had to squint. I carried it to the coffee table, sat cross-legged, and slurped it loudly on purpose.

Just as expected, Muffin got up at once and strolled toward the balcony with her usual elegant cat walk.

Sunny lay on the rug, his nose twitching.

Then I heard it.

Sunny asked, "Why does she eat poop?"

My fork froze midair.

Muffin replied coolly, "That's called blue cheese. Even dogs won't eat it."

Sunny asked, "Would you eat it?"

Muffin shot back, "You won't touch it yourself, and you're asking me?"

"Oh," Sunny mumbled.

I choked. For real. The cheese hit my throat the wrong way, tears streamed down my face, and I fumbled for tissues like a complete mess.

At the balcony door, Muffin turned back and glanced at me. I swear I saw mockery on that furry little face.

Muffin said, "See? That's karma for eating poop."

Sunny asked, "She's crying. Should I go lick her?"

Muffin replied, "You go. I don't want to smell her."

Sunny actually walked over, rested his big head on my knee, and looked at me with those soulful, watery eyes, tail gently wagging.

I wiped my tears with one hand and rubbed his head with the other, my feelings all over the place.

It wasn't my imagination. I really could understand them. It just wasn't anything like I had expected.

*****

That afternoon, I scolded Muffin over the scratch marks on the sofa.

"Muffin!" I said, putting on my stern face. "Look at this. The brand-new couch. You scratched it again. What about the scratching post I bought you? Huh?"

Muffin lay at the other end of the sofa, leisurely flicked her eyes at me, then went right back to licking her paw.

But I heard what she was really thinking.

"I told her when she bought the scratching post. It's pointless. I'm still going to scratch the sofa," Muffin grumbled.

"Hey, at least you're honest," Sunny piped up.

"Zip it, you silly mutt," Muffin snapped.

I quickly turned around and pretended to grab the lint roller, my shoulders shaking.

*****

That evening, I stopped Muffin from chasing a stray cat outside the window.

A black-and-white cat walked past downstairs. Muffin's ears shot up. She leapt onto the windowsill, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

I picked her up. "Don't bother chasing it. You're just wasting your energy. That stray works out every day. You'll never catch it."

Muffin struggled in my arms. Then, Muffin said, "She says I'm wasting my energy."

Sunny replied, "And she rides a shared bike to the gym just to run on a treadmill."

My arms went stiff. Muffin took the chance to wriggle free and jumped back onto the windowsill, but the stray was already gone. She glanced back at me, and I caught a flash of pity in her eyes. She said, "At least chasing cats is free. Her gym membership costs 1200 dollars a year."

I slowly lowered my arms and walked over to the mirror. I was in my workout gear, just about to go to the gym.

The test was confirmed. I really had gained some completely absurd ability that I could understand what my pets were saying.

And my cat and dog, who looked all sweet and innocent, were actually absolute little demons behind my back.