Shorts:Even my cat pays rent

The familiar symphony of meows crescendoed at the back door. MoNoRi-Chan, ever the sucker for their soul-rending pleas, shuffled over, muttering, "Alright, alright, you furballs." He swung the door open, bracing himself for the usual whirlwind of feline affection.

Instead, two sets of luminous green eyes stared at him with an air of chilling nonchalance. Tiger, his introverted big boye, and Furry, his perpetually grumpy orange tabby, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front against hunger (or so they pretended). MoNoRi-Chan chuckled, the familiar routine warming him despite the ever-present Los Angeles chill.

He scooped up a generous portion of kibble, heading towards their stainless-steel bowls. As he neared, a glint of brown caught his eye. Nestled beside the kibble was a tiny, unmoving form – a dead baby rat, about the size of his thumb.

MoNoRi-Chan froze. He wasn't squeamish, living in a city like LA hardened you to certain realities. Still, this was unexpected. He glanced back at Tiger and Furry, their tails swishing expectantly. Furry, ever the bolder of the two, let out a pointed meow, nudging the rat closer to MoNoRi-Chan's feet.

A slow grin spread across MoNoRi-Chan's face. "Alright, alright," he conceded, amusement dancing in his voice. "Looks like even my cats know how to pay rent these days." Furry, as if understanding the praise, purred and nudged the rat further, a proud glint in her eyes. Tiger, ever the pragmatist, simply dug into his food bowl, the dead rat a mere afterthought.

MoNoRi-Chan scooped up the offering with a plastic bag, a newfound respect for his furry housemates blooming. "Alright, you two, chow time," he announced, setting down the bowls. Luna and Pixel wasted no time, devouring their breakfast with gusto. MoNoRi-Chan watched them, a silent chuckle bubbling up in his chest.

Sure, life wasn't always easy, especially as a freelancer in the ever-changing capitalist world of LA. But with these two furry rent-payers by his side, even the most mundane days were injected with a dose of the unexpected. And in a city fueled by hustle, sometimes the most valuable contributions came in the most surprising packages – dead rat or not.