I should've known things were about to get stranger when Whiskers handed me a paw-typed scroll bound in yarn.
"What's this?" I asked, squinting at the wax seal shaped like a sardine.
"The sacred Landlord-Lease of Feline Fellowship," he intoned. "Passed down through generations… and totally binding."
I unfurled it. Clause 7B stated that I was legally required to host the annual "Tenant & Tabby Tea." Clause 9C forbade vacuum cleaners. Forever. But the kicker? Clause 12 said:
> "In the event of a breach of trust, the human shall uncover the truth about the Vault of Nine Lives."
"What's the Vault?" I asked, heart racing.
Whiskers licked his paw, nonchalantly. "Let's just say… this apartment building has nine hidden basements. And not all of them are pet-friendly."
Later that night, I found the first clue behind the fridge: a tiny key wrapped in a furball. Gross. Mysterious. Classic Whiskers.