I’ve always thought that Cleo was on the quiet side. One of those lead-by-example captains, he says.
Colour me shocked that he has an opinion of me at all. But I’m never myself in front of him, so it makes sense that he’s all wrong.
Becks laughs her head off at his comment. Nellie? The only time she’s quiet is when she’s asleep. And even then, she snores so loudly that nobody wants to room with her if we have a roadie.
Jesus, Becks! If she wasn’t driving, I would have killed her by now. Although maybe I could strangle her, push her out of the car, and take over the wheel myself, Fast and Furious–style. Nah, it’s easier to toss Mats from the car at sixty miles per hour, and he’s my preferred murder victim anyway.
Luckily, I can see the exit for St. Viola coming up. Soon, Mats will be out of the car—and out of my life—for good.
2
CHARITY DOES NOT PAY
MATS
ALL I DID WAS ASK YOU TO HOLD HIM WHILE I GOT THE BATH READY. DIDN’T YOU GROW UP ON A farm? I ask Sinc.
Once I brought the kitten home, my roommates quickly gathered around to help. Ethan Unger is making up a kitten enclosure in my room, and Karl Swanson has gone out to get something to feed the kitten. Sinc, Tyler Bergstrom, and I are in the kitchen. Three guys, and we can’t corral one tiny kitten.
Yeah, but it was a cattle farm, not a cat farm, Sinc explains. That little guy is slippery.
We’re both on our hands and knees as we try to coax the kitten out from the gap under the dishwasher.
Bergy is supervising. Maybe we should try a broom handle? What about the vacuum? We could suck him out.
Use a vacuum on a tiny kitten? Where is your brain? I demand.
Chill, dude. You’re in a bad mood tonight, Bergy grumbles.
Am I? It has been a terrible night, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on my friends.
Sorry. I issue a general apology to everyone, then finally get my hands on some unknown part of the kitten. My reward is getting scratched by razor-sharp claws. I curse, but manage to get him out, then stroke him to calm him down.
Yuck. What’s wrong with him? Bergy squints at the kitten’s matted fur and crusted eyes.
He’ll look better soon. Usually their moms clean them up, but something must have happened to her. I plunge the kitten into the warm water. He lets out a mew of protest then goes limp, resigning himself to the torture. I gently shampoo and rinse his fur, then clean his eyes with a facecloth.
Merrroooooo.
Neko is locked out of the kitchen and not happy about it. But the kitten might have something contagious, so I don’t want to take the risk.
Here, Sinc holds open a towel and I place the kitten inside. We rub him down and dry him off to more protests. Whenever the kitten mews, Neko lets out another howl.
Jesus, Neko, get out of the way. We can hear Swanny outside the kitchen. Bergy goes over to open the door and keep our cat from sneaking in.
They didn’t have any kitten formula, so I got the next best thing according to the internet. Swanny holds up a few jars of chicken baby food.
That’s great. Thanks so much. Let’s try feeding him, I say.
Armed with his newfound online knowledge, Swanny mixes up some diluted baby food.
Can I do it? Sinc asks. He cradles the kitten in his arm, then gently offers him spoonfuls of food. And he makes me take a photo so he can send it to his girlfriend, Andy Robson. At least some women appreciate kitten rescues.
It’s a slow process, but eventually the kitten has had enough. His belly is rounded and his eyelids droop. His clean fur is as fluffy as a baby chick’s. Sinc carries him up to my room, where Ethan has constructed a cardboard nest, complete with a shoebox of cat litter. As soon as the kitten is placed inside a T-shirt–lined bed, he curls up without a worry in the world.
Man, he’s so cute. Are we going to keep him? Sinc sounds like me as a kid whenever I came across any stray animal.
I don’t think so. He’s too young, and we’re too busy. The shelter will give him to a foster who’s used to raising kittens.
