The cats are still here, but they’re also in a soft, fluffy bed. Sort of. Someone has fashioned a shelter of sorts out of a cardboard box and layered the bottom with old T-shirts. Both cats are curled upinside the box, looking as content as can be. The two plastic containers I brought out two days ago are still there, full of water and cat food.
“Well, look at you two,” I say, approaching. I go slow, cognizant of the anxious gray one who seemed wary of humans. As I crouch down, the black cat emerges and immediately nudges my outstretched hand with her head, greedy for attention. I laugh and give her what she’s looking for.
“Who made all this for you?” I ask, taking a closer look at the rumpled cotton. Now that the black cat vacated her spot, I see words on one of the shirts: PHOENIX SUNS.
“I think they like it, don’t you?”
I jump at the voice behind me, which sends the cat diving back into the box. I stand and spin around to find Gregory standing a few feet away. He’s wearing jeans, another gray T-shirt, and a Triton vest. His hands are in his pockets, and without a backward hat covering it, his brown hair is visible in its usual disarray.
“You made this?”
“Yup. I was bringing some boxes out here at the end of my shift yesterday and saw these guys—”
“They’re girls, actually,” I say, interrupting.
“Oh,” he says, nodding. “I saw these girls and noticed the bowls. I figured that meant someone was keeping an eye on them, but they didn’t have a place to sleep.”
“You gave them your shirts?”
“They’re on loan,” he says. “I had those in my trunk.”
The black cat is curious again and steps back out. I sit downright where I am, crisscross applesauce. She climbs into my lap, and I smile up at Gregory. “I brought the food and water bowls out on Friday. After I worked on inventory.”
He walks toward me. “Ah. We’re going from friends to co-parenting, look at us.” He continues past me, leaning down to peer into the box. “This one’s shy.” He reaches into his pocket and drops a few treats on the ground. They’re in a line, like a little trail, leading to where he eventually sits against the wall. He keeps two more treats in his hand.
“She wouldn’t come to me, either.”
“How did you know it’s a girl, then?”
I think back. “Actually, I don’t. I guess I just assumed.”
He shrugs. “Girl until proven otherwise.” He regards me steadily as he stretches his legs out straight and crosses his ankles.
I pull out my phone, trying not to jostle the cat curled up on my legs. “Think they like music?”
“Duh. All cats do.”
His response makes me grin. I scroll through my options with my thumb. “I have a playlist with a lot of Glass Animals…?”
“Perfect. Should we name our children?”
I look down at the feline curled up in my lap. “Fiona.”
“Wow, you had that ready to go. Big Shrek fan?”
I laugh and shake my head. “It was my grandma’s middle name. I always loved it.”
“Does that mean I get to name the antisocial one?”
“Have at it.”
He strokes his chin, looking up into the sky. He takes so long,I finally say, “Oh my God, it’s not like you’re naming your actual first child. Let’s go.”
“Waffles,” he blurts out.
“Waffles?”I sputter.
“I panicked,” he says, eyes wide. “It was too much pressure!”
