Sandra, allowing herself to be distracted from me for the moment, looked down at his paperwork, which she was holding. “Well, everything on here looks good. You’re going to keep up with their vaccinations, they’ll be indoor-only cats - that’s important, we don’t adopt to people who let their cats out - and your lease allows for pets. The only thing that could really go wrong is if one of your references tells us that you’re not going to be a responsible owner, but I imagine that if they agreed to be your references, they’re unlikely to say that.”
“They’d better not,” he agreed with a scowl. “Or I’ll kill my sister.”
“Oh, murder threats,” I murmured teasingly, “that’s a great way to come across as a responsible owner.”
“What?” he demanded, glaring at me. “I’m saying I’d fight for my babies. That’s good ownership.” He looked to Sandra. “Right?”
She rolled her lips, smothering a smile, and managed something resembling a serious expression. “Oh, definitely. Though we do frown on bloodshed. Unless it’s being caused by the cat, in which case the person probably did something to deserve it.” She looked back down at the paperwork. “I can probably make the reference calls this evening. Then it’s just some administrative stuff, making sure the girls are finishedwith their go-home vaccinations, and then you can bring them home! Probably Monday or Tuesday, if that works for you.”
Jamison screwed up his face thoughtfully. “I have meetings all day Monday, but I could come Monday evening or else Tuesday afternoon. I’m not sure how late you guys stay here,” he explained.
“Oh, I practically live here,” Sandra said lightly, waving a hand. “And Iactuallylive all of three minutes away, so it’s not like I can’t make the trip here at a time that works for you. I want to see my babies settled happily in homes, yes I do,” she cooed, reaching down to pet Minnie, who attacked her fingers good-naturedly. “Ouch, those little needle claws.” There was no reproof in her voice, and I noticed that her arms and hands were already covered with healing scratches and what looked like a bite mark. Clearly Sandra was a hands-on administrator. She shook Minnie off her hand and lifted it to her lap. “Let’s plan for Monday night, then. Can you be here around six or seven?”
Jamison whipped out his phone to check his calendar. “Yes, definitely seven. What do…oh, shit.” He looked at me. “What do I bring them home in? I can’t just leave them loose in my car!”
Whoops. “Yeah, you’ll need carriers. We can go back to the store - I mean, you can go back to the store,” I corrected myself, remembering belatedly that we weren’t actually a couple who went everywhere together, “tomorrow and pick some up. Or you can probably overnight some off Amazon.”
“Oh,” Sandra broke in, “I can recommend some carriers from Amazon that people have liked.”
“That would actually probably be easier,” Jamison agreed. “I feel like if I walk back into that pet store I’m going to walk out having spent five hundred more dollars on god knows what. Rhinestone collars and gold-plated bowls or something.”
I grinned. I knew the feeling. “Amazon it is. If worse comes to worst, let me know and I can lend you Curie’s carrier and we can cram both girls into that for the trip home.”
“Your cat’s name is Curie?” Sandra broke in. “Is she named after Marie Curie?”
“Sure is,” I said proudly.
“I love it!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “‘Curie and Solo’ sounds good together, don’t you think?”
I directed a half-hearted glare in her direction. My resolve was weakening with every moment. “I really, really don’t know how she’d be with another cat, Sandra…”
“Bring her Monday night.” She said it in a definitive tone, obviously brooking no argument. “We’ll set her and Solo up in the office to meet while we work through the paperwork for Kellogg and Minnie.”
A mental image of Solo’s cute smooshed face rose in my mind, and I couldn’t help but imagine both cats cuddled up in my lap, a giant pool of fur and attitude. “Fine,” I groaned. “I’ll bring her. But if they don’t get along, that’s it.”
Sandra bestowed me with an angelic smile. “I have a good feeling about them, don’t worry.”
“Cats for everyone!” Jamison crowed from where he sat with Kellogg sprawled belly-up over his lap. “It’s like a fairy tale for Solo.” He reached down to rub her belly, and I winced, but to my surprise, Kellogg didn’t latch onto him with claws out. Instead, she dropped her head against his thigh and almost audibly sighed.
Cats were magical creatures who always did the opposite of what you expected and made you love them for it.
“Now then,” Sandra said briskly, “let’s get you started onyourpaperwork, Henry.”
Oh, right. That. I sighed and accepted a pen and a clipboard, pretending I wasn’t feeling a rising tide of excitement.
14
Jamison
Week 8 - Monday night
By the time Monday night rolled around, I’d spent hours on the phone and video calls with Hen, talking through preparing my house for the cats and just generally expressing my excitement. When we weren’t discussing my cats-to-be, we talked about what I was working on at my job, Hen’s latest commission, and surprisingly peacefully, our politics, which it turned out matched almost perfectly. Democratic socialism for the win.
I zipped up the two cat carriers Amazon had dutifully delivered to me last night and stifled a squeal of excitement. My neighbors didn’t need to hear how worked up I was.
I eyed the clock again. It was now 6:19. It would take me about twenty minutes to get to the shelter, and Hen had agreed to meet me there at 6:55. So I shouldn’t leave yet. I’d just be sitting in my car, waiting for Hen, for ten or fifteen minutes. That was silly when I could be doing…something…productive at home. Work? Setting up for the cats? But I’d already set out their litterboxesand bowls. The brush I’d thrown into the overnight Amazon order with the carriers was sitting on my kitchen table. The toys were neatly stored in a basket I’d had laying around, just waiting for inquisitive paws to dip in. Ok, so no more cat setup. Work, then. I opened my email on my phone and looked over my inbox, but two minutes later I realized I’d been staring blankly at the screen without even opening an email.
So I paced. And checked my watch. Five minutes passed. I needed to kill at least ten more to not be That Loser Who Arrives Early. I checked the cat litter level and spent three minutes overthinking whether I should have put more in the boxes.
