By Ryan Parker
Someone had been in my house. I could feel it. At first glance, everything seemed to be in place. The doors were all closed, and nothing obvious was missing. But after closer inspection, that didn’t hold up.
The lamp had been moved an inch to the left. The book my dad was reading was now on the floor. I checked the couch, and there was a new indent on one of the cushions. Someone had obviously been sitting there. I touched it- still warm. And there was an odour that just didn’t belong. I couldn’t place what it was, but I knew I didn’t like it.
Who had broken into my house? I had to know. I wasn’t going to be able to rest until I figured it out. I started going from room to room, gathering clues. A hair I had never seen before in one. Sand covering the floor in another. My heart was racing. Something was definitely wrong.
I went into the kitchen. “Why is she freaking out like that?” my sibling asked my mom.
My mom bent over and scratched behind my ear. My tail started wagging. “She probably smells Oreo, our new cat,” she replied. “Give her a couple of days, and I’m sure they’ll be best friends.”