“Are you sure you should be doing that?” I asked.
“The staff said as long as the door was closed to the hallway, we could take out any cat with a green tag on the door of the cage. These are the cats that are friendly and get along with other cats,” Lydia explained, pulling the cat out and gently setting it on the floor before opening another cage. “We can’t film without having some cats in the video.”
“How will we know what cage to put them back in?” I wondered.
“The collars have their names on them and the cages do as well. It’s a simple system,” Lydia told me. She gave me a grin. “Want to open a few cages or are you afraid of getting cat hair on your uniform?”
“You're having fun, aren’t you?” I carefully opened the cage of a large orange cat.
“Absolutely. If we have fun, the video will appeal to the viewers,” Lydia told me.
One of the cats chose that moment to jump onto the bench between us, startling me just enough to earn a soft laugh from Lydia.
“See,” she said. “That’s usable.”
“That was a flinch.”
“That was human,” she corrected. “Let’s just pet and play with the cats for a while.”
I took a breath and crouched slightly, extending a hand toward the cat without touching it. The cat sniffed once, unimpressed, then turned its attention back to Lydia.
“She likes you better,” I dryly observed.
“She likes people who do not expect anything from her,” Lydia replied.
I filed that away.
We played with the cats. It was awkward because I knew we were being filmed but it was also not terrible. Mostly because Lydia was having so much fun. She laughed, she threw toys for the cats, she petted them, and she even let a kitten play with her hair.
“You’re doing fine. You just have to stop treating this like something you could fail at,” Lydia said after a few minutes, checking the screen.
She glanced at me, expression warm and happy. I found myself wishing I was the cause of that look more often. A kitten grabbed me around the ankle and began climbing my leg. Thankful for the distraction, I carefully extracted the kitten’s claws from the fabric of my pants and held onto it.
“He likes you,” Lydia teased as the kitten tried to chew on my name tag.
“He’s a small nuisance,” I murmured, petting the soft fur. “I imagine he needs someone with a lot of energy to spare.”
“Maybe someone with a child will adopt him before Christmas,” Lydia mentioned. She tilted her head. “I wonder if I could talk Mom and Dad into getting a cat for the inn.”
“Would that be allowed? It’s a public space with a commercial kitchen. It might be against the rules,” I replied with a frown.
“I would get one for myself but I’m not home a lot with being so busy at the inn,” Lydia said regretfully. “Although they do say cats don’t require as much attention as dogs. I think if someone gets a pet they should be a bit of a homebody.”
I supposed I fit that description. Besides work and the grocery store, I really didn’t get out much.
I absentmindedly set the kitten down, before noticing a cat on the bench. It was gray, short-haired, with one ear tipped slightly forward like it had been bent once and never corrected. It sat with its paws tucked neatly beneath its chest, tail curled along its side, watching the room without trying to own it.
I crouched without realizing I was doing it, letting it sniff my fingers.
The cat’s eyes tracked the movement, calm but alert. It didn’t retreat but sniffed my fingers before rubbing its head against my fingers.
“Well,” Lydia said quietly beside me, “there you are.”
“There I am?” I echoed, uncertain what she meant.
She nodded toward the cat. “That one. That’s the cat for you.”
I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
