A Secret of Me (I Love Cats)
Not everyone knows this about me, but my days are never truly mine alone—I share them with three cats. They follow me through every rhythm of life: greeting me the moment I step home from school, sneaking onto the dinner table as if the meal belonged to them too, and curling into my bed at night, where their soft breaths lull me to sleep.
The first is Zeze
An orange burst of energy we adopted in Houston. I named him after my brother, and just like my brother, Zeze never stays still. He chases shadows, knocks things off shelves, and spends half the day tormenting the other two. He is chaos wrapped in fur, but he makes the house feel alive.
Then comes Cu
A British Shorthair we brought from Vietnam. Gentle, quiet, almost too kind for his own good. At first, my father resisted the idea of adopting him, but with some persuasion from my mother and me, we brought Cư home. I gave him my father’s name—half in jest, half in gratitude. Now, even though Zeze’s antics have left him a little timid, Cư remains a quiet anchor in the household.
Finally, there is Peachy
Our old Persian cat, dignified in his grumpiness. He sleeps most of the day, wakes only to eat, and requires constant care because of his long fur. I named him after Princess Peach from Mario, a small relic of my childhood games. Only later did it occur to me that Peachy was a “he,” not a princess at all—but by then, the name had already become his.
Together, the three of them create a world of their own within mine. They bicker, they nap, they demand attention at the most inconvenient times. Yet in their presence, I’ve found something simple and true: home is not just walls and rooms—it is the warmth of small companions who make every day softer, louder, and endlessly more alive.
And yes—when it comes to bedtime, it’s not really my bed anymore. I’m just renting a corner. 🐾