Right.Who am I kidding?
She’s probably not even single.
Probably not interested in a mid-thirties, overanalyzing divorcé with possible trust issues.
A yowl from underneath the antique table yanks my attention away from Cami.
Focus. Cami’s a distraction you don’t need now, or all summer.
Crouching down on all fours, I move slowly toward Mama Cat, her yowls now accompanied by intermittent hisses.
How did she get up here? Can’t imagine Millie’d be a cat lover. Not after what Cami mentioned about thatno-sandrule.
“It’s okay,” I say, hushed and gentle in an effort to ease the vigilant feline. “No one wants to harm you or your babies.”
I scan the attic, my mind already calculating escape routes in case Mama Cat bolts.
Aged woodwork and dust fill the cramped space while boxes, most bursting at the seams, are stacked haphazardly against spackled walls.
“You think Mama Cat might be injured?” Cami asks, the chair squeaking as she rocks the mewling pair of fur babies.
“Either that or she’s about to deliver more kittens.”
I edge in slowly, body low, movements steady. I hope my growing proximity doesn’t incite a defensive strike, or worse, make Mama Cat run off and possibly get hurt.
She’s tucked in the corner on top of a stack of old newspapers, her flank heaving, tail twitching.
Another yowl cuts through the attic.
This one’s longer. Sharper. As though she’s having trouble.Shit.
I glance back at Cami, who’s still cooing at the kittens, thankfully unaware there’s panic knotting my chest.
As I inch closer, Mama Cat manages a strangled hiss, which tells me all I need to know.
“Um…” I carefully rise, brushing dust from my knees. “We need to get her out of here.”
“Wait. What?” Cami says behind me, her tone clipped, the light creak of the chair cutting off mid-rock.
“Looks like she’s trying to deliver more.” I snatch a nearby storage bin from off a shelf, dump its contents—broken picture frames and lace scraps—and line it with a frayed beach towel hanging from an exposed beam. “And, honestly, she’s not doing so well on her own.”
Concern widens Cami’s darkened eyes.
“If we don’t get Mama Cat to a vet soon, she and her unborn kittens could…”
Cami doesn’t even wait for me to finish before shuffling to her feet, twin kitties swaddled in her arms as though they already mean something to her. “What can I do to help?” Her shaky inflection tells me she’s as panicked as I am.
“Find a small box to put those kittens in, take them to the Range Rover parked in my driveway, and wait for me. Doors should be unlocked.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “There’s an emergency animal clinic about ten minutes from here. We’ll take them all there once I get Mama Cat safely inside this bin.”
She nods, already backing away, careful with each step.
I hear the rustle of cardboard, thin mews, and the creak of floorboards as Cami disappears down the stairs below while I shift my attention back to rescuing a cat in distress.
Dropping to my knees again, I ease the bin toward her, my tone rough with urgency. “Come on, girl. You’ve gotta help me help you and your babies.”
Her fur is matted and damp against my fingers. To my surprise, she lets me pull her close without a fight.
But then her eyes shut slowly.
