He blinked, his eyes meeting mine, concerned, then he looked at my shirt, even more concerned. “Down your shirt? Why would you do that?”
“You said... you know what? Never mind. I can google better ideas.”
We both stood there, not speaking for a long, awkward moment, until the kitten I was holding let out a squeaky meow.
“Oh, you poor little baby,” I said, cuddling him to my chest. Then I looked at Deacon. “Can we please feed them? I don’t know what to give them or how to feed them, and they must be starving. And scared. And sad.”
He looked at me, then at the door, probably wishing his father would come back in and save him from me. Then, without a word, he turned and walked out the door he’d come through, taking the kitten with him.
Okay then.
Before I could wonder how long I was supposed to stand there before I went looking for help, the receptionist, who it turned out was also a veterinary assistant, came in with the kitten and a set of digital scales.
“Deacon’s just getting some milk to temperature, but first we need to weigh these little ones,” she said.
I hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh, okay. Yes, that’s a good idea.”
She weighed them both and was typing all my details into the computer first as Deacon came back in with a cute little bottle. He showed me how to best feed them, letting me do it as he watched on, correcting my hand for the angle only once.
They were both so hungry. Andthey, as it turned out, were two little boy kittens. He explained how much of the special milk to give them, how often and how to test the temperature, what to look out for, how much weight they should gain every day, how to clean them, and a long list of what not to do. He was very efficient with details. Conversation, not so much. Admittedly, neither was I. But once he had factual information to talk about, he was a different guy.
“Okay,” the vet tech said, still at the computer. “Your account’s all set up, and all the information for these two is done. We just need names.”
“Names?” I asked. “I have to name them?”
They both stared at me. “It’s generally how it works, yes,” she said.
Deacon seemed to find something funny. He had a nice smile.
“I’ve never named anything before,” I admitted. “It’s a big responsibility.”
I mean, do I go with a literary great name? Leo Tolstoydidn’t seem a great choice. What about book boyfriends? I have plenty of those.
“Merry and Bright,” Deacon said.
“Pardon?” I wasn’t sure what he was referring to.
He pointed to the box the kittens were in, the box I’d brought them here in. It looked like a Christmas decoration box, but on the front, near the bottom, were indeed the wordsmerry and bright.
The vet tech began typing. “That’ll do for now. Don’t worry,” she said. “If you think of something else, just let me know when you bring them in next week for a follow-up and chipping.”
Deacon was clearly very pleased with this. “Merry and Bright,” he said their names as he wrapped each kitten up in the old scrap towel and put them back in their box. “Good Christmas names.”
Merry and Bright.
I wasn’t entirely sold on those names but they were kind of cute, and we were heading into the holidays. These two little souls entrusted into my care for the coming winter months. They’d surely have died if we hadn’t found them and rescued them.
If I hadn’t been the cause of their orphaning.
So maybe a little Christmas spirit was in order.
“Good Christmas names, indeed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
DEACON
“So,the appointment with Mr. Atkins went well,” Dad said. We were at the table having dinner. “Glad he found those little kittens, huh?”
