“Sorry, Gran, but this stupid cat just tripped me.” I looked around to see where it’d gone. “Give me a sec and I’ll shoo him outside.”
“There’s no need for that.” I looked just in time to see the cat’s head poke above the table, his green eyes staring at me as he sat on Gran’s lap.
“Meow.”
“When did you get a cat?”
“Last night. This handsome fella was meowing outside the patio door, so I gave him some tuna.” Outwardly, I raised an eyebrow. Inwardly, I thought, what the fuck.
Gran knew better than to feed a stray.Or so I thought.
“What?” She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “He was hungry.”
She stroked the cat’s head as she explained how he’d rubbed up against her leg, begging for attention, before devouring the food.
The cat looked healthy, and he was friendly. “He probably belongs to a neighbor. We need to ask around.”
“He doesn’t have a collar,” she countered. Honey-brown eyes, so much like my own, stared at me, daring me to argue.
I sighed and poured myself a cup of coffee. After adding a generous portion of vanilla creamer, I tried again. “Gran, just because a cat doesn’t have a collar doesn’t mean he’s a stray. We should take him to the vet to see if he’s chipped.”
“But he likes it here.” No argument from me. I could hear the damn cat purring across the small kitchen island.
I tried to use reason. “Gran, his owners probably miss him.” A well-fed, friendly cat must have a family who loved him. Gran wouldn’t want to deprive them.
“Fine, we can take him to see if he’s chipped, but if he’s not, I’m keeping him.”
“Thank you.” I sighed.
“His name is Prince.” As if on cue, Prince meowed.
Great. We have a cat.As if I didn’t have enough problems.
“Gran, try not to get too attached. He looks healthy, so he probably has a home and a family.”
“Nonsense! He adopted us.”
Knowing it was a lost cause, I gave up. If the vet found a chip, we’d have to return him to his family. If Prince didn’t have a chip, we’d have a cat.
“Emily’s coming over after breakfast. We’ll take the cat to the vet after she leaves,” I said before asking what she wanted for breakfast.
“Just eggs and toast for me.”
After breakfast, Prince followed Gran to the living room, where she settled into her favorite comfy chair to read. I could hear her talking to him, asking him what type of toys he wanted.
I prayed he had a chip. Not because I didn’t like cats, but I lacked the energy for the added responsibility. And what if he tripped her, like he almost did me this morning? Gran could end up a lot worse off than she already was. I didn’t want to think about her needing another surgery or, worse, dying because she fell and hit her head.
Emily didn’t help matters by gushing over the damn cat when she greeted my grandmother.
“Your cat is so cute.”
“He is, but I doubt we can keep him,” I said.
At the same time Gran said, “His name is Prince.”
“Why not?”
“Look at him Em, he’s probably someone’s pet.”
