“Doesn’t he eat in his cage?”
“Normally, yes, but you’re going to give him his treat today.”
“I don’t know about that, Claire.I don’t want to upset him.”
“Mortimer’s been fed by so many people.He’ll be fine.Are you okay to try?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Good.Let’s bring him over to the bean bags.”
She had set up a seating area in one corner of the room.It was comprised of four bean bag chairs in primary colors.Nick settled himself onto one of the bags, keeping an eye on Mortimer as Claire sat down.The feline pinned its gaze on Nick, but didn’t hiss.That was a start.
Nick waited for the old nerves to resurface, but he was filled with a strange calmness instead.Maybe it was because Claire was so at ease with Mortimer, gently cooing and babbling to the elderly cat.
She handed Nick a bag of treats that she had grabbed from the counter earlier.“Here.Shake the bag a bit.”
Nick did as he was told, echoing the words Grandma Ingrid always used to say.“Treat, treat.Who’s a good boy?”
When Claire smiled, he felt silly, but also really good.
Mortimer regarded him with something less than malevolence.
“He’s interested,” said Claire.
“He looks like he wants to eat my face.”
“Cats aren’t like dogs, Nick.Sometimes, you have to work for their love.”She set Mortimer on the floor between them, but the cat stayed close to her legs.“Put some treats in your hand.”
“In myhand?”
“In your hand.”
“If you say so.”Giving the bag another shake for good measure, Nick emptied out a few nuggets into the palm of his hand.
“Now, just rest your hand on the floor, and keep still.We’ll see if he comes to you.”
Nick opened his hand palm up on the floor.“Come and get it, little dude.”
Mortimer looked back at Claire, as if to say,‘Oh, come on, Mom.Seriously?’However, she gave him a little nudge on his hip, and he must have realized he had no choice.He chirped to express his discontent, but then slowly approached Nick’s hand.
“That’s it,” coached Claire.“Don’t move.”
When a bead of perspiration appeared on Nick’s upper lip, he realized he was probably far too invested in receiving Mortimer’s blessing.Still, the cat meant a lot to Claire, and for some reason, Nick really wanted to show her that he could keep his cool around her ornery little buddy.
Mortimer lowered his head and gave Nick’s hand a sniff, a long one.He was obviously wondering whether or not the treats were worth lowering himself in this fashion.He sniffed everywhere—his fingertips, his knuckles, right up to his wrist.Nick was on the verge of picking up a treat and eating it to show Mortimer it was cool, when the cat crept closer and licked at one of the treats.
Nick met Claire’s gaze for a second.They both held their breath.
Mortimer snatched a treat from his palm and munched it.Little crumbs fell on the floor.The Manager did not have good table manners.But Nick forgave him when the cat snatched another treat, and another.
Nick couldn’t hold in his laughter.He was actually giving a cat a treat!
Up in Heaven, Grandma Ingrid must be cracking open a box of wine.
“Okay, stay put,” said an excited Claire.“I’m going to grab his food bowl and brush.”She handed Nick the full bowl.“Here.Put it right in front of you on the floor.”
Nick did so and Mortimer sniffed around a bit more.A bit more comfortable now, the cat started eating from his bowl, looking up periodically to see if Nick was watching.
