In the bustling town of Purrington, there was one rule that all the cats took seriously: Nap time was sacred. Every afternoon, from noon to 3 PM, the cats of Purrington would sprawl on rooftops, lounge in windowsills, and curl up in flowerpots for the most glorious snooze imaginable. And no cat loved nap time more than Benny, the town’s laziest—and somehow craftiest—orange tabby.
Benny had one prized possession: the perfect pillow. It was an old, feather-stuffed cushion from the bakery, rumored to have absorbed the scent of every croissant, pie, and danish that had ever cooled on the windowsill. This pillow wasn’t just comfortable—it was legendary. Every cat in town was jealous of Benny’s nap spot.
But one fateful afternoon, as Benny stretched out for his daily snooze, he discovered that the pillow was gone. His tail shot straight up like an exclamation mark. His eyes widened. This wasn’t just a prank—this was an outright crime.
“WHO TOOK MY PILLOW?!” Benny yowled from the rooftop, his orange fur fluffed with indignation. Cats popped their heads up from various napping spots, ears twitching in alarm. A theft during nap time? This was an outrage!
The town’s detective, a sleek black cat named Whiskerton, padded over and adjusted his tiny magnifying glass. “Calm down, Benny. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Benny wasn’t convinced. “I can’t nap without it, Whiskerton! If I can’t nap, I can’t dream about food! And if I can’t dream about food, who even am I?”
Whiskerton sighed. “Fine. Let’s gather clues. But you’re my assistant on this case, Benny.”
Benny blinked. “Can I be chief assistant napper?”
“No.”
The investigation began. They questioned the usual suspects:
• Mrs. Tibbles, the garden cat who had a soft spot for feathered things. She was found sitting in her rose bushes, covered in pollen. “Feathers? Please. I prefer my cushions made of roses. Much more elegant.”
• Tony Two-Toes, the alley cat who ran a black-market sardine trade. He raised a single eyebrow. “I deal in fish, not fluff.”
• Tabitha, the local yoga cat, who could do a downward dog that made actual dogs jealous. “A pillow would only disrupt my flow, man.”
Hours passed, and Benny was losing hope (and energy). He lay dramatically across a bench. “Whiskerton, this is it. I’m doomed to a life of pillow-less naps. It’s like eating toast without butter. Like tuna without mayo. Like—”
Suddenly, a small sneeze echoed from behind the bakery. Benny’s ears perked up. He padded over and peered around the corner to see… a tiny kitten, no bigger than a loaf of bread, curled up on his pillow. The kitten’s eyes were half-closed, and it let out a soft snore.
Benny’s heart melted. The kitten looked so small and cozy, wrapped up in the feathery softness of the legendary cushion.
Whiskerton appeared beside him. “Well? What’s the verdict, Benny?”
Benny sighed and gave his pillow one last longing glance. “It’s just a kid. Probably doesn’t even know it’s mine.” He puffed out his chest. “Alright, Whiskerton. I’ll let it go.”
Whiskerton blinked. “Really?”
Benny nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not heartless. And besides… the bakery lady always throws out her old croissant cushions at the end of the month.”
As they walked away, the kitten let out a happy purr, snuggling deeper into the pillow. Benny stretched and yawned. “Guess I’ll nap on the bakery roof today. And who knows? Maybe I’ll dream of something even better.”
“What’s better than your pillow?” Whiskerton asked.
Benny smirked. “Two pillows.”
The cats of Purrington never forgot the Great Catnap Heist—mainly because Benny told the story to everyone for weeks. And whenever he passed the kitten, now known as “Little Feather,” Benny would give a lazy wink. Because even the laziest cat in town knew that sometimes, sharing the perfect nap spot was the greatest adventure of all.
