Me:I just moved my leg when my cat was on my lap and long story short she’s no longer speaking to me.
Jamison Duschene:WAIT YOU HAVE A CAT??
Me:Um…yes?
Jamison Duschene:Name? Age? PICTURES?? You can’t just mention a cat and not provide these things.
I grinned, not having expected that level of enthusiasm in response to my awkward non sequitur, and started scrolling through my photo album to find the cutest photo I had.
Settling on a shot of Curie on her back with her legs in the air, exposing her weirdly hairless (considering the amount of fur elsewhere) belly, I sent it along to Jamison.
Me:It’s a trap!
Jamison Duschene:I will absolutely touch the belly anyway and then be shocked when I get clawed. What’s her name?
Me:Curie. She’s something like two years old, I don’t really know because I found her in the woods as a kitten.
Jamison Duschene:You adopted. A kitten. Out of the woods.
Was that weird? Lots of people adopted stray cats, surely?
Me:Yes?
Jamison Duschene:My brovaries just exploded.
Me:Please never say ‘brovaries’ again. Makes me think of the ‘men having babies’ Amazon erotica I’ve come across and just…no.
Jamison Duschene:You’re no fun. Why’d you name her Curie? Is it like Marie Curie? Or like she’s CURI-ous? Or she likes curry?
Me:Lol pretty sure cats don’t eat curry. And I wouldn’t want to see the litterbox if they did. She’s named after Marie Curie because I would swear she was glowing when I found her. Made me think of radium and thus, Curie.
Jamison Duschene:*blink* Your cat is a fairy.
Me:If so, she’s the least sweet fairy in existence. Girl’s got an attitude and I mayyyy have her spoiled rotten.
Jamison Duschene:Of course you have. How could you not with a face like that?
Unable to help myself, I sent him two more photos: one of her gazing into the camera with her bright green eyes, and one of her curled up on her pink satin pillow that I privately referred to as the Princess Bed.
Me:When she looks at me like that, I’d pretty much do whatever she says.
Me:And, well, a princess requires satin bedding.
Jamison Duschene:Sorry, Jaime can’t come to the phone, he’s dead of the cute. THAT FACE.
Me:It’s lethal. I speak from experience.
Jamison Duschene:Try not to let her kill you, I prefer you alive.
My stupid heart did a little pitter-pat at that and I rolled my eyes at myself.All someone has to do is say they prefer you alive?I demanded of myself.Talk about low standards. But then, that was about as close to a declaration of love as I’d gotten since my last relationship went down the tubes. Andhis‘I love you’s hardly counted when he’d also been boinking other guys in the bed he slept with me in.
Grrr. I was still pissed about that. I wasn’t heartbroken, not anymore, but pissed? Yeah, still that. Fucking asshole.
My phone buzzed.
Jamison Duschene:Did I overwhelm you with my sentimental attachment to your still breathing? You went quiet.
How long had I been sitting there internally raging about Ramsey and his wandering dick, to have Jamison checking in with me? I checked the timestamp on his last text, 12:34, and then the time on my phone, 12:39. Oh. Five minutes of rage wasn’t that bad.
