For months, I felt like someone was watching me. Lights I swore I’d turned off stayed on, and doors I closed were left slightly open. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but then faint noises started coming from upstairs. Living alone, the sounds made me uneasy. I kept trying to convince myself it was nothing—just my nerves playing tricks.

Last week, I found muddy footprints trailing from the back door to the kitchen. Fear crept in, and I didn’t know what to do. Then, yesterday, I came home to my living room rearranged—coffee table shifted and books out of order. Terrified, I locked myself in my bedroom and called the police. I was so relieved when help arrived, but the mystery wasn’t solved yet.

The officers searched but found no sign of a break-in. Just as they were leaving, one officer hesitated and asked, “Have you checked on your cat?” My heart skipped a beat, then I remembered—my mischievous cat, the real culprit. The little gremlin who loves chaos more than anything. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense.

She’s been knocking books over, dragging muddy shoes around, and flipping light switches on and off like a pro. Mystery solved: I’m not haunted—I’m living with a furry agent of chaos. Just when you think you know what’s coming, life throws you a curveball! Sometimes, the biggest mysteries have the silliest answers. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.