55. Colt
55
colt
Oh, my God. She’s been around them in this way for less than twenty-four hours, and she’s already started a revolution. I catch up to them as they pile into Maggie’s garbage car. I swing myself in and pray we don’t all get rabies.
Maggie’s driving has always been terrifying, but in Italy it’s a downright thrill ride. I have to pretend it’s all happening to someone else. The girls are chattering about plans on who’s going into the walls.
“No one is going into the walls. That’s why there are professionals there. Let’s assess the situation and come up with a suitable game plan.” Maggie smiles tightly and I can see her biting the inside of her cheek. “Say it, Maggie.”
“Hey girls, who does your dad sound like?”
Sloane yells, “Grandpa!”
And Daisy adds, “This is not a Vice-Presidential situation, Dad. There’s a life on the line.”
I turn to Maggie, ignoring my children. “Did you just mock me through the girls?” She shrugs and takes a turn way too fast up her driveway. “It’s a very good thing I’m in love with you.”
She cackles loudly. Then the girls do too, and I take the teasing. Gemma never allowed this kind of mocking or joking. Any levity was on her own terms, and again I think about how sad she must have been. As alone as I felt in our marriage, she must have felt it too. We both made that bed, and my heart pulls. Maggie flies out of the car with the girls on her heels, and I halt them with a word.
“Fumigation.”
The doors and windows are covered in thick plastic and people are parading out of the house in hazmat suits with cages of bats. I had no idea there were still so many in her damn house. The AirBnB people are nowhere to be found but I saved all the receipts.
“Daddy, they can’t hurt them.”
I shiver at how gross they are, but hope they take up residence in the nine large bat houses I’ve built on the edges of the property.
A man comes out with a clipboard and Maggie runs to him.
“Scusi. English?”
“Yes. Si.”
He lifts his hood. “This is my house and I have a problem.”
Daisy runs over. “There’s a mongoose in the wall, and you can’t kill it. You can’t. Please tell me you haven’t killed an innocent mongoose.” Her overdramatic nature really living up to its potential here.
He laughs long and hard and yells in Italian to others to gather around.
“Dice Italiano, Miss?”
“Si. Si.”
“Explain what you said.”
Sloane yells in Italian, “Salva la mangusta all’interno delle mura. Devi farlo adesso!” My passionate girl just ordered them to save the mongoose in the walls, and she speaks Italian without hesitation or thinking now. Wonder if she’s aware she did it.
The crew all bend over laughing and can’t stop. I want to laugh too, but the girls are so earnest in their desire to save a life. I get it, doesn’t take therapy to realize that this death is in their control.
A woman takes off her hood and says in Italian, “Venire.” Then gestures for us to follow her to the back of the house to a series of tents set as their command central. There are cages, devices and in the corner there’s a large, tall almost refrigerator box lying horizontally. We approach with trepidation.
“Oh, my kittens !” Maggie yells.
There’s a large grey striped tabby cat on her side with five tiny kittens suckling. Sloane squeals and Daisy has tears running down her face. Pretty sure I’m now the proud owner of seven cats.
Maggie turns to the woman. “They were in the walls upstairs?”
“Si. Con fruitti.”
Maggie leans over the box. “Mongoose, why didn’t you tell me you were a cat?” I get behind her and whisper in her ear.
“You do know it wasn’t fighting or killing in the walls, right?”
Her eyes go wide, and she tilts her head. Then she slaps at my arm, getting my point when I raise my eyebrows.
“They were making love?” she says quietly.
“Mags, they were ally cat feral fucking.” Her face gets a small blush of pink. I lick at the spot behind her ear.
“Are you calling me an ally cat?”
“If the feral fits,” I say louder, and she shakes her head.
“Mongoose cat. What are we going to do with you?”
A gruff man from the corner says, “Fucking cats. We can’t legally do anything about them in Italy except save them.”
“Daddy, seriously.” Sloane says, “It’s the law.”
Daisy smiles, “Accidental pregnancy.”
“Happy accident,” I say, then I fluff Daisy’s hair.
“I’ll take them to the hotel with me.” Maggie’s big heart almost explodes all over us. The girls begin to whine.
I look at the woman. “Let me guess, they’re all girls.”
“Except this one. And the father who is lurking around the perimeter.” She picks up a little orange ruffian and hands it to me. “Now, you have a boy.”
“Okay, fine. But they come back here as soon as the house is ready. We are not keeping them. They can be lemon grove cats.” They finish up with mom and start wandering around the box milk drunk. Everyone scoops one up.
Maggie grins and rubs a tiny white belly in her arms. The girls are arguing over which cat is the cutest. I can’t take my eyes off the woman who melts every heart, sees the good in everything and is mine. I know we have to go slow, but she should know if it were up to me I’d have a ring on her finger and her legs spread open wide like a banquet right now. Slow.