Morning in the small wooden house always began with chaos, but that day promised something truly special—or so Puppy Zlata believed. Zlata was a young, golden-furred puppy with oversized ears, expressive eyes, and a heart much bigger than her body. She had taken on a role no one officially gave her: guardian, teacher, and self-appointed mother to three mischievous kittens who lived under the same roof.
The kittens—Milo, Miso, and Mina—were tiny balls of fluff with endless curiosity and absolutely no respect for rules. They climbed curtains, chased dust particles like sworn enemies, and believed Zlata’s tail existed solely for their entertainment. Still, despite her frequent sighs and dramatic looks toward the ceiling, Zlata loved them fiercely.
That morning, Zlata woke up with determination. She had watched the humans cook many times and believed she could do it too. Today, she would make her signature porridge—a nourishing breakfast for her kittens. After all, good guardians made sure their family was well-fed.
She padded into the kitchen with confidence, hopping onto a chair and then onto the counter. The kittens followed, whispering excited meows and tripping over each other in their eagerness.
“Sit. Stay. Behave,” Zlata barked softly, pointing her nose toward the corner like a strict schoolteacher.
The kittens nodded—then immediately ignored her.
Zlata found a pot, some oats, and a suspicious-looking jar she assumed was sugar. She turned the stove knob with her paw the way she had seen the humans do, unaware she had turned it far too high. The flame roared to life.
Meanwhile, Milo jumped straight into the pot.
“HEY!” Zlata barked sharply, grabbing him by the scruff and placing him back on the floor. “No climbing in cookware!”
Milo looked offended. Miso took the opportunity to knock over the jar, spilling salt everywhere. Mina chased the rolling lid across the kitchen, crashing into a bowl that shattered dramatically.
Zlata froze.
She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then scolded them like only a fed-up puppy could.
“This is BREAKFAST, not a circus!” she barked, pacing back and forth. “You must listen! One of you could get hurt!”
The kittens sat still for exactly three seconds.
Then the porridge boiled over.
Foamy, sticky oats bubbled aggressively, spilling onto the stove, hissing and smoking. Zlata yelped and jumped back, slipping on the salt Miso had spilled. She landed with a thump, porridge splattering across the floor like a beige explosion.
Silence.
The kittens stared in awe at the disaster. The kitchen looked like it had lost a battle with oatmeal.
Zlata slowly stood up, her ears drooping. Her once-proud porridge was now burnt, salty, sticky, and absolutely inedible. She looked at the kittens, who were licking porridge off the floor with great enthusiasm.
“No. No eating floor porridge,” Zlata said weakly, gently nudging them away.
She sat down in the middle of the mess, tail wrapped around her paws, feeling defeated. All she wanted was to take care of them. Instead, she had created chaos, broken dishes, and probably violated several kitchen rules.
That’s when the kittens did something unexpected.
Mina climbed into Zlata’s lap and curled up. Milo followed, rubbing his tiny head against her chest. Miso jumped up last, placing one paw on Zlata’s shoulder like a silent apology.
They purred loudly, warm and comforting.
Zlata blinked, surprised. Her tail wagged just a little.
“Well… you are very bad kittens,” she said softly, licking porridge off Milo’s ear. “But you are my bad kittens.”
Just then, the human walked into the kitchen.
They stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the destruction: porridge everywhere, broken bowl, salt trails, and four guilty faces sitting in the center like a failed cooking show finale.
Zlata slowly stood and placed herself in front of the kittens protectively.
“I did it,” her posture said. “Scold me, not them.”
The human sighed… then laughed.
They knelt down, scratching Zlata behind the ears and gently lifting the kittens one by one. “Well,” the human said, smiling, “looks like the signature porridge was a complete disaster.”
Zlata wagged her tail, relieved.
Later, after everything was cleaned and everyone was fed proper food, Zlata lay in the sun with the kittens piled on top of her. Her stomach was full, her heart even fuller.
She had learned something important that day.
Being a guardian wasn’t about perfect porridge or strict rules. It was about patience, protection, and love—even when things boiled over and fall apart.
As the kittens slept, Zlata closed her eyes, already planning tomorrow’s breakfast.
Maybe… something simpler. 🐶🐱💛
