The Feline CEO of Sweetieport Bay

The morning fog rolled in from Alsea Bay, wrapping Sweetieport in its familiar gray embrace as Ken shuffled toward the coffee maker, a cat balanced precariously on his shoulders. This was the standard morning commute for Samba, the self-appointed supervisor of all household operations in the charming coastal home that Ken and Toni had turned into their sanctuary.

"You know," Ken mumbled to Toni as he measured coffee grounds with mathematical precision, "I'm pretty sure most cats don't require a verbal breakdown of the coffee-making process."

Toni looked up from her laptop where she was already troubleshooting a client issue for Sweetieport Systems. "Most cats aren't Samba," she replied as the cat in question let out a lengthy commentary that could only be translated as an urgent coffee quality inspection.

"Mrrrraaaaow-raow-raow-ekekekek," Samba announced, her tail swishing against Ken's neck as she spotted a Steller's jay landing on the bird feeder outside.

"Breaking news from our feline correspondent," Toni translated with mock seriousness. "Bird activity has increased by twelve percent since yesterday, and immediate attention is required at the south-facing window."

This was life in Sweetieport Bay—a delicate dance of technology, romance, and the constant supervision of a cat who had spent sixteen years watching Ken and Toni evolve from friends to business partners to something neither had expected: soulmates who found each other hiding in plain sight.