There’s something about the sound of the garage door opening that sends Nyx into detective mode. She tilts her head, ears perked, as if she’s calculating whether the giant silver beast on four wheels can really be trusted again. Every step toward the Cybertruck feels like a mini-adventure — curiosity battling caution.
Once we start moving, her posture shifts from skeptic to co-pilot. She presses her nose to the window, tracking every tree and passing car like she’s on patrol. You can almost see her pride — she’s in charge of security, even at 60 mph.
By the time we’re home, she’s relaxed into her seat, eyes half-closed in victory. Maybe it’s safe after all — or maybe she’s just letting the Cybertruck know who’s really in control.
