We stayed in a hotel where you were not allowed to swim in the pool after 5 p.m., but I wanted to. My husband advised against it, but I was stubborn. I come back happy, and he looks at me wide-eyed. He laughs: “Here’s your punishment!” He shows a video on his phone: I’m swimming, and suddenly a cat comes to the edge of the pool and does its little business. My husband kept teasing me for the rest of the vacation, and I believed in instant karma.

I shrieked, splashing out like the pool was lava. “Did I swallow any?!” Panic mode: I showered thrice with hotel soap that smelled like regret. Hubby, filming my freakout, posted it anonymously to our group chat—friends roasted me endlessly: “Cat’s revenge for rule-breakers!” Hotel staff caught wind via security cams; we got a stern warning and complimentary chlorine tabs. That stray cat? Hotel mascot “Whiskers,” apparently a serial offender.

Vacation turned comedy tour: Every meal, hubby mimed pooping sounds. I swore off rebellion, sticking to schedules like glue. Back home, we framed the video still as “Karma’s Purr-fect Timing.” Moral: Rules exist for reasons—furry, vengeful ones. Now, I swim only in daylight, and hubby? He’s the rule-enforcer supreme. Instant karma? More like instant hilarity. No regrets, just lessons in not tempting fate… or felines.