Dead Plate Oneshots Tiny Shadow

Manon sighed as she opened the front door, cradling a carrier that contained the newest addition to her small family. Her beloved Rody, a round, well-fed orange tabby, lounged across the couch like a bloated sunbeam, oblivious to her arrival. His tufted ears flicked lazily, and he cracked one eye open before promptly returning to his nap. 

“Rody, meet your new friend,” Manon announced cheerfully, setting the carrier down. 

The carrier door swung open, and a sleek black cat slinked out with the grace of a shadow. Vincent, as Manon had named him, paused in the middle of the room, taking in his new domain with calculating black eyes. His gaze landed on Rody. 

In that moment, something inexplicable happened. Vincent’s eyes widened slightly, and his sleek tail swished once, twice, before curling in what could only be described as a feline declaration of devotion. 

Rody, for his part, remained blissfully unaware of his new admirer, lazily licking his paw. 

— 

From the beginning, Vincent’s affection was intense. Wherever Rody went, Vincent was sure to follow, his lithe black frame always a step behind the lumbering tabby. If Rody waddled to the food bowl, Vincent was there, delicately sniffing before letting Rody eat first, as if honoring a king. If Rody stretched out in a sunbeam, Vincent would curl around him like an obsidian crescent moon. 

Manon thought it was adorable at first. “Look, Rody! Your new friend loves you already!” 

But soon, things took a turn. 

Whenever Manon tried to pet Rody, Vincent’s ears flattened, and a low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat. If she dared persist, Vincent would swat at her hand with his claws. The scratches were shallow, but her wounded pride stung deeply. 

“Vincent, he’s my cat!” she scolded, clutching her hand. 

Vincent merely blinked at her, unrepentant, before turning back to his beloved Rody, who was now gnawing on a forgotten sock. 

— 

The chaos escalated when Manon invited her friends over. One brought their own cat, a sprightly calico named Mimi, hoping for a cute playdate. Rody, ever the sociable one, bounded over to sniff Mimi, his whiskers twitching with interest. 

Before they could touch noses, Vincent leapt between them with a hiss so fierce that even Mimi’s human yelped. The black cat puffed up, his sleek fur bristling until he resembled a tiny, furious porcupine. 

Mimi hissed back, but Vincent was unyielding, arching his back and lashing his tail in a display of possessive aggression. 

Rody, confused but intrigued, tried to paw at Vincent’s tail to lighten the mood. Vincent immediately softened, his fur flattening as he turned to Rody with an almost tender nuzzle. 

Manon groaned. “Vincent, you’re impossible!” 

— 

Rody, meanwhile, found himself equally smitten with his overprotective shadow. Vincent’s antics were endearing, if a bit excessive. One day, Rody decided to climb the cat tree—a rare burst of energy for the plump tabby. He hauled himself onto the middle tier, his hefty frame wobbling the structure. 

Vincent, ever vigilant, raced up to join him. He perched on the highest tier, watching Rody’s every move like a hawk. When Rody reached out a paw toward the dangling feather toy, Vincent swatted it down. 

Rody meowed indignantly, but Vincent only chirped in response, nudging Rody back down to the safety of the ground. 

Manon watched this unfold, bewildered. “Rody, he’s babying you!” 

Rody, blissfully oblivious, rubbed against Vincent, purring so loudly it sounded like a motor. 

— 

The final straw came one evening when Manon settled onto the couch, Rody in her lap. She scratched behind his ears, eliciting his signature snort-purr. But just as she leaned down to kiss his head, Vincent sprang from nowhere, swatting at her face with a screech of fury. 

“Ow! Vincent!” she cried, holding her cheek. 

The black cat landed gracefully beside Rody and began licking his ears, as if to comfort him from the supposed assault. 

“That’s it,” Manon muttered. “You two are ridiculous.” 

Vincent stared at her, smug as ever, while Rody simply flopped onto his back, exposing his belly for Vincent to groom. 

— 

Despite the chaos, Manon couldn’t bring herself to separate them. Their dynamic, though bizarre, was oddly heartwarming. Rody was happier than she’d ever seen him, and Vincent, though a menace to her, was undeniably devoted. 

As she watched Vincent curl protectively around a snoozing Rody, she sighed. “You win, Vincent. Just…try not to kill me in my sleep.” 

Vincent’s tail flicked, and he shot her a look that could only be described as, *No promises.* 

Manon retreated to her room, leaving the two cats entwined in a sunbeam, perfectly content in their chaotic little world.