“Guess we’d better take her to a vet, huh?” I say.
We don’t find an animal clinic until we reach Grand Junction, but when they find out we’re just passing through, they’re willing to take us right away.
The vet does a bunch of tests and says the kitten is definitely a girl, that she’s probably about four months old and, by how clean and well-fed she looks, that she was most likely abandoned very recently.
“Who drops a kitten off to die?” The vet shakes her head. “I’ll never understand human beings.”
“Me neither.” Hannah scoops the kitten into her arms. “Thank you so much for your help.”
The clinic provides us with a cat carrier, a brand-new litter box and bag of litter, in addition to cans of cat food and two bowls. She also offers us a cat backpack, which has a bubble-shaped clear window on the back.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
Hannah squeals. “Oh, how precious! She can sit in it and look out while I carry her.”
I run my hand down my face. “That’s a little much, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s perfect.” Hannah takes it from the vet, who’s smiling as excitedly as Hannah is.
“Good luck with your new family member,” she says to us.
I don’t have the heart to tell her the truth—Hannah and I are just two people passing through each other’s lives for the next few days. And no way can I take in a kitten right now.
“What should we name her?” Hannah asks me as soon as we’re back in the truck.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nothing? That’s an awful name. You mean because she came from nothing, right? I don’t know. I think she might develop a complex being called Nothing forever.”
“No, I meant nothing. Let’s not call her anything. We need to drop her at a no-kill shelter, Hannah. We can’t drive all the way to Chicago with her.”
Hannah’s face falls.
“A shelter knows more than we do about kittens,” I add weakly.
“I grew up with a cat,” she says. “And she had kittens. She gave birth in my bed while I was sleeping.”
“Seriously?”
She nods.
“Wow. That’s pretty amazing.”
“It was.”
And there she goes again—distracting me from making a practical decision.
“We can take her with us,” I hear myself say. “Once we get to Chicago, we’ll find a good home for her.”
I can anticipate what’s coming next. Sure enough, in three, two, one…
“She has a good home already.” Hannah kisses her head. “I’ll keep her.”
I jerk my head toward her. “Are you sure? That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Maverick.” Hannah’s blue eyes fix on me. “This kitten came into our lives for a reason. We were meant to meet. I’m not going to throw that gift away.”
I swallow.
