“Daddy likes those glasses.”
“Does he?”
“Yes, I heard him telling Aunt Sophie they make him want to—”
“Okaaaay.” He cut her off before she could repeat something she was far too young to be saying. “Back to business. Are you sure you want a cat? We could get a dog, maybe?”
She shook her head. “Dogs smell.”
“So do cats when they live indoors with a litter tray.”
“You won’t let it smell,” she said confidently. “You make even Daddy’s socks smell nice.”
It was nice of her to say, though Jodi couldn’t remember a time Rupert had ever smelt anything less than amazing. And, in a world where so much had apparently changed, Indie’s faith in his age-old cleaning obsession was oddly reassuring. “So, a cat it is. You’re going to have to choose one, you know. Or let one choose you.”
“How would I do that?”
Good question. “How about we go back inside and ask the nice lady if we can sit with a couple? See if any of them take a liking to you?”
“But not the kittens?”
“Not the kittens.”
They finished their drinks and went back inside. A friendly member of staff showed them to a “socialisation” room, which was attached to one of the many compartments that held multiple cats.
“We’re running out of room,” the woman explained. “Ideally, they’d all have their own pod.”
It was on the tip of Jodi’s tongue to ask what would happen when the centre reached full capacity, but he stopped himself just in time, remembering Indie’s innocent ears.
“What happens when you’re full?” Indie asked.
Jodi cringed and tried to catch the woman’s eye, but she ignored him and fixed Indie with a steady gaze. “Some of the older animals, and the ones with health problems that are least likely to be adopted, will be put to sleep.”
Indie’s eyes widened. “You mean, they’ll die?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Jodi glared at the woman, ready to give her a piece of his mind, but Indie slid into his lap before he could speak.
“We have to get a disabled one, Jodi. Can we? Can we, please?”
It broke Jodi’s heart that Indie had spent the last year—like they all had—learning what being disabled truly meant—the limitations and restrictions, the pain and heartache—even though most folk would look at Jodi and have no idea that he woke up some mornings unable to remember how to dress himself.
Don’t be so dramatic.Okay, so shit like that was rare these days, but there was no denying Jodi’s accident had irrevocably changed the lives of everyone he loved, Indie included.
The woman opened the plastic window separating them from the cats, and Indie instantly lost interest in anything Jodi had to say, her gaze fixed on the window. For a long moment, nothing happened, then, as fate would have it, a three-legged cat hopped through the gap straight into Indie’s reaching arms, and Jodi was more certain than he’d ever been of anything that Rupert was going tokillhim.
* * *
Rupert stared at the black bundle of fur making itself at home on top of the fridge. “What the bejesus is that?”
“It’s a cat,” Jodi deadpanned, staring at Rupert like he was the world’s biggest idiot.
“That’s not a cat.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s got no legs.”
