Goldie led Day to the front door, and he opened it to allow him to go in first.
Day’s feet appeared to be frozen in place because he didn’t move.
Goldie was patient, and he squeezed Day’s hand. “Hey, I’m right here, okay?”
Day nodded, and he took a deep breath, finally stepping inside the lobby.
It was small, cramped enough that Goldie almost ran right into the counter to get out of the way so he could shut the door behind them. There were animal-themed posters covering the walls with titles like “Is A Puppy Right For You?” and “10 Things To Know Before You Adopt!” and a single gray plastic chair. The counter was lined with various pamphlets and brochures about pet ownership, and there was a large cardboard box with “Kittens” written across it.
A makeshift screen was stretched behind the counter to separate the rest of the building from the lobby. Judging by the sounds of barking and howling in the distance, Goldie assumed the kennels for the animals were back there. Any evidence that the building was once a church was gone save for the high angled ceilings and a single stained glass window depicting a red cross surrounded by bright yellow rays of light.
Day visibly shuddered when he saw it, but he quickly turned away.
“So,” Goldie said quietly, “do you just wanna leave it on the counter or…?” He looked around, but he didn’t see anywhere to leave a donation. Knowing Day was probably going to leave a big stack of cash, Goldie hesitated to have him leave it on the counter out in the open.
Day pointed at the cardboard box.
“Well, let’s see.” Goldie peeked inside the box, and he grinned when there was indeed a kitten inside. “Aw, hey there, little one.”
The kitten was small, orange, and its fur was oddly patchy. It wasn’t missing enough to be a Sphynx, and it had too much to be a Devon Rex. Goldie’s first thought was that the poor thing had some form of mange, and he hesitated to pet it.
Day, however, did not. He gasped when he saw the patchy kitten, and he immediately scooped it out of the box to cuddle it against his chest.
The kitten meowed, kneading on Day’s coat and headbutting his hand aggressively.
“May I help you, sir?” It was the older man who had been out back playing with the dogs. He had a friendly smile, and his name tag said Evan.
“Hey!” Goldie smiled. “Yeah, we’re just, uh…” He looked to Day still loving on the kitten. “Looking at kittens.”
“You are?” Evan’s brow furrowed.
“Well, he is.” Goldie nodded at Day.
“Oh!” Evan blinked in surprise as if he hadn’t noticed Day standing there. “I see you met Patches.”
“What kind of cat is he?” Goldie asked.
“We’re not real sure, but he’s a special little guy.” Evan beamed. “See, someone threw him and the rest of his litter in a box and dumped it in our trash can out back. Couldn’t even be bothered to bring the poor little things to the door. Just left them in the trash to freeze to death.”
“Christ,” Goldie murmured. “What an asshole.”
Day cautiously moved one side of his headphones off, frowning as he listened.
“My sentiments exactly,” Evan said. “But that little guy there? He went off like a siren, kept meowing and meowing and he did not stop until I finally heard him. I was out back with the dogs, and I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from at first. Got scared he was gonna stop before I could, but nope, he wailed like a fire truck until bam, there they were in the trash can.”
“He saved them,” Day whispered, smiling down at the kitten.
“Did the other kittens look like him?” Goldie asked.
“Nope. Just him.” Evan shrugged. “Best as I can figure, he’s got the genetic mutation they used to breed Lykoi cats.”
“A what now?”
“Lykoi. L-Y-K-O-I.” Evan chuckled. “They call them werewolf cats. They kinda look like him. Patchy all over like that. S’why we started calling him Patches.”
Patches purred loudly, and he snuggled under Day’s chin.
Day was completely entranced, and he turned his head so he could press his ear against Patches’ side to listen to him purr. He smiled at Goldie and hugged Patches close, and that was the moment when Goldie knew they were taking the kitten.
