I laugh. “Butt births, dude? No, thanks.”
His eyes widen. “No, I—” He stops, and his smile gets a little bigger as he shrugs. “Yeah, something like that. Anyway.”He hands me my little sticker with the number on it. “Go on in. Enjoy your hour.”
The room is almost the same as it was the first time I was here with Rome. The cats are mostly snoozing, though I notice the one with the half tail is nowhere to be found.
Their big grand opening doesn’t seem to have attracted the flood of customers I was expecting from a place that requires reservations. It’s probably everything to do with the geriatric garbage cats, but that makes me sad.
They deserve love too.
The side door opens, and suddenly, Milo walks out, peeling latex gloves off his hands. Though he was probably just cleaning the litter room, there’s something strangely ominous about the way he does it.
It makes me think of that TV show about the serial killer guy who everyone was in love with.
He smiles, though, and tips his hand from the side of his head. ‘Hi.’
‘What’s up?’ I sign back, then freeze. ‘You Deaf?’ I can’t imagine he is. Out of all the brothers, his signs are the worst.
He frowns. ‘No.’
‘Why are we signing?’
‘You’reDeaf.’
I blink and switch my voice on. “No. I’m hearing.” He jolts, and I roll my eyes a little—mostly at myself. “Sorry. My…” Oh god, what even is Rome to me? Not a boyfriend. Lover sounds ridiculous. Hookup sounds wrong. And are we even friends? “Guy, person…I was here with last time,” I stumble and feel my shoulders slump. Real smooth. “He’s Deaf.”
Milo nods. “Ah. Well. Welcome back. Why isn’t he here?”
“Work stuff,” I say. I don’t tell him Rome is convinced cats have a vendetta against him. I walk over to the adoption walland see that Fuzzeroli, the tailless cat, is gone. “Aww, one got adopted?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Milo says.
What does that mean?
I turn around when I feel a nudge against my calf and glance down. There’s one round eye blinking up at me. It’s Dennis, and somehow, he looks even more feral. The right side of his mouth is pulled up to show a single fang.
‘Hey, bud,’ I sign. I kneel and offer my fingers. He sniffs for a moment, then nudges my hand.
Milo makes a small noise. “Oh. He likes you. He hates almost everyone.” As if to prove his statement, he takes a step closer, and Dennis turns his head and hisses.
“Well, he’s…special.” I don’t really know what to say about these cats. They’re really not normal. “I actually had a couple of questions for you about caring for a cat.”
Milo’s walking toward a storage closet. “Go for it.”
“I mean, they’re easy, right?”
“Uh…”
“They’re not like dogs, I mean. You don’t have to walk them or crate train or any of that shit.”
Milo pulls out a pet carrier and fusses with the latch. “Nope. I think they’re kind of ideal for people who don’t want to actively give out affection all the time. You kind of just sit around and wait for them to tell you they want to be pet.”
“And if someone has, say, a busy work schedule?”
“They’re pretty self-sufficient, especially if you get an automatic litter box. But if you’re never going to be home?—”
“Oh, no. I’m home, just…I own the gym down the street. PUMPT?”
Milo smirks. “Oh. I know about it.”
