Summer arrived like an uninvited guest – loud, sweaty, dramatic.

And Montybear is not impressed.

She despises the heat. Loathes it, in fact.

Sunbeams? No thank you.

Balmy breezes? Offensive.

Humidity? A personal attack.

While other cats might stretch out in golden rays like it’s some luxury retreat, Monty stalks around the house like a little velvet goblin whose castle has been cursed by warmth.

She flops on the cold tiles, sighs at the sky, glares at me as if I control the sun itself.

But then – the blessed hum of the air conditioner.

Instant relief.

She transforms into a soft puddle of contentment, parked directly under the vent like a queen returned to her rightful throne. Tail flicking. Eyes half-closed. Judgment still fully operational.

Summer may be a lot of things, but for Monty, it’s mostly an inconvenience.

A battle between fluff and fire.

And the only victor?

The AC.

Her one true love.

Well – second to tuna.