The morning started quietly, but whenever Cubis was involved, quiet never lasted long. Dad had just finished his coffee when he noticed something strange on the floor—tiny shreds of white scattered everywhere like confetti. His first thought was, “Please don’t let that be what I think it is.”
Sure enough, as he followed the trail into the bathroom, there was Cubis, looking mighty proud of himself, sitting right in the middle of what used to be a perfectly rolled toilet paper. The roll was destroyed beyond recognition, pulled across the floor, chewed in places, and wrapped around Cubis like a fuzzy scarf.
Dad stood in the doorway, trying to decide whether to laugh or scold. Before he could say a word, Cubis tilted his head, gave those big guilty eyes, and let out the softest whimper. He knew he had messed up. Slowly, he padded over, ears low and tail tucked, and leaned against Dad’s leg as if to say, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin it. It was just too much fun.”
Dad sighed, kneeling down to scratch behind Cubis’s ears. “You really made a mess this time, buddy,” he said, shaking his head. But the way Cubis pressed close, nuzzling with genuine remorse, made it impossible to stay upset. It was clear that this was his version of an apology.
To make things right, Cubis even tried to help by dragging the leftover cardboard tube toward the trash can—though it only made another mini-mess along the way. Dad couldn’t help but laugh at the effort.
In the end, the ruined toilet paper was forgotten, replaced by belly rubs and laughter. Cubis had apologized in the only way he knew how—through his eyes, his cuddles, and his goofy little attempts to fix what he broke. And Dad, as always, forgave him. After all, toilet paper can be replaced, but moments like these are what make life with Cubis unforgettable.
