Keystrokes and Kittens (Foggy Basin Season Three)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Sam

What I didn’t expect to find, one random Monday morning, was a box of kittens on the doorstep of The Pet Pantry—the pet store where I worked.

I panicked. Just purely panicked. The kittens were cold, so I hustled them into the store.

I remembered I had a hot water bottle in the back office for reasons I couldn’t fathom at that moment.

I made a beeline and had that filled with hot water quickly.

Then, as I sat with the box on my desk, I held each kitten and tried to warm them with my hands. As if I could will them to survive.

The three gave weak mewls.

Right. Food.

I abandoned them for a few moments to grab a kitten nutritional supplement food.

I prepared it with warm water and then headed back to the kittens.

One by one, I gave them a little bit of the liquid.

God, am I doing this right? I might run a pet store, but I’d never cared for kittens.

Little ones whose eyes weren’t even open yet.

Maybe two or three weeks? Or less? I had no idea.

“Hey, Sam? The front door’s wide open. Oh.” Desiree, my part-time employee, stuck her head into my office. “Are those kittens?”

“Yep.” I gave her a panicked look because, unsurprisingly, panic was rising within me.

“They look young.” Her forehead creased more than usual. Sometimes she made comments about the perils of growing old. Wrinkles, sagging, and other stuff. I thought she looked lovely and youthful for fifty-five. But then what did I know?

That Marcella and Lucius never reached that age, and who cares about a few wrinkles?

Yeah. That. Except thinking about my brother- and sister-in-law in that moment wasn’t going to help. A distraction—one I didn’t need. “Can you watch the store?”

“Well, that’s sort of my job.” Desiree rolled her eyes. “You going to be okay?”

“I’m going to run these down to the Safe Haven shelter. Pam will know how to take care of them.”

“Call first?”

I cocked my head.

“Just to make certain they’re open. Sometimes they have weird hours. If memory serves.” Desiree waved away the thought. “That was years ago, so who knows? Okay, I’ll open.” She moved to the safe, unlocked it, and removed the float.

Hardly anyone paid cash anymore, but we had a few dedicated customers who did.

She arched an eyebrow. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Maybe I should search on the internet?” I checked the temperature of the hot water bottle and found it to be warm, but not too much. When someone has hypothermia, you’re supposed to warm them up slowly. So…slow and steady.

“You do that. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Within a moment, she was gone. Leaving me to sink further into my panic. So I searched for the phone number for Save Haven and hit connect.

After five rings, a cheerful voice answered, “Safe Haven, how may I help you?”

“Is this Pam?”

“Yep. What’s up?”

“It’s Sam Mosley. From The Pet Pantry. I found a litter of kittens on my doorstep this morning, and I’m wondering how soon I can bring them in?”

A long silence. Finally, “It’s the season, Sam. We’re already overrun, and all our fosters are full. We don’t have space.”

My lungs seized. “What do you mean you don’t have space? You’re a shelter. You always have space.” Because this felt all kinds of wrong.

“I’m just being honest, Sam. We can’t take any more kittens.”

I rubbed my forehead. “So what happens to them?”

A long silence ensued.

“That can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. We can only do what we can do.”

My heart squeezed. “There’s got to be something. Someone.”

“You’re free to post on the internet that you’re looking for a foster home. There might be someone. You’re in Hartsville, right? Near Foggy Basin? You might find someone up that way.”

I wanted to seize her optimism and run with it, but something stirred inside me. Something I’d not felt for a very long time. Despair. Pure and simple. I was panicked about these little ones and their future. “And if I keep them? What does that require?”

“Let me email you the package we give to all kitten foster parents. The thing is a step-by-step guide to everything you need to know. What’s your email?”

I rattled it off to her.

“Okay. I’m here to answer questions, and I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” She cut the line before I could thank her.

The panic didn’t subside as I eyed the kittens, but my email pinged and I eagerly opened the message—hopeful it might contain the answers to the universe.

Alas, it had only the care of kittens. Which was enough to get me started. I needed to run them over to Dr. Genner at the Hartsville vet clinic. They were too young to get shots, but given the state I’d found them in, they needed to be seen. I reread the instructions.

Okay. A source of constant heat, but also a space in the box where they could crawl if they overheated. Bottle-feeding every few hours with kitten formula. Okay, those two I’d done. Next? Stimulating them to go to the bathroom after each meal.

Well…yuck. I’d never had a pet, so all the functions and fluids were beyond me.

I knew how to scoop dog poop and take care of cat litter boxes, but that was about it.

We didn’t have animals in the store. We sponsored adoption days—but the dogs and cats arrived, stayed the day with supervision, and whoever wasn’t rescued went back to the shelter.

The animals were never my responsibility.

Okay, get your shit together. I pulled out a pen and paper and wrote down everything I’d need to secure that I didn’t have ready access to.

First on that list was a heating pad. One that didn’t have a safety that would trigger it to turn off after a few hours.

As the list grew, so did my despair. No way could I manage this.

I pulled up the local digital bulletin board. After snapping pictures of the kittens, I placed a notice requesting a foster home. Okay, more like begging for one. Because I really needed help.

After watching three videos about stimulating kittens to pee, I gave it a shot. And yeah, gross. But also success. So I’d take that for the win. I cleaned the little ones. Then I refilled the water bottle. Finally, I took the box out to Desiree at the front desk.

She eyed me.

“Just until I’m back.”

“And where are you going?” Said in that officious voice that made me question who was the boss.

“The drugstore. I should be able to get everything I need.” I clutched my list.

She nodded. “Just this once. Kittens aren’t my thing. Other people’s are just fine. I have no interest in them myself.”

Which I sort of had known—and was the reason I wasn’t asking her to consider fostering. “I’ll be right back.”

“See that you are.” She made a shooing motion.

Which, under other circumstances, might’ve been funny. Today, though, it just doubled my stress. I hotfooted my way to the pharmacy, bought everything on my list, and was back at The Pet Pantry in record time.

Desiree gave me an approving look as I scooped up the box and brought it to my office with me.

I set up the heating pad—remembering to give them a cooling off space—and then placed an order for several small blankets with an online company.

They’d be delivered this afternoon. That way they’d have fresh bedding.

Which also meant doing laundry, but whatever.

If they needed something, they were damn well going to get it.

After letting out a long breath, I checked the instructions again.

Crap—they’d be due for a feeding shortly.

I still had yesterday’s order in the back, waiting to be put on the shelves.

We were low on several products—they were obviously the priority.

Although I adored Desiree, she couldn’t lift the heavy bags of food.

She minded the cash while I did the physical labor.

That worked. I yanked out my phone, set an alarm, and then headed to the pallets of dog food needing to be put away.

Before I knew it, the alarm sounded.

After placing an extra two bags of food, I headed to my office.

To be greeted by plaintive cries.

Okay, so I’d left it too long. I prepared the food and headed to them. Since all three were crying, I opted to pick the smallest one and feed it first. Him? Her? I just didn’t know and wasn’t going to go checking at this point.

I managed to get it fed and its bladder stimulated. Then the next. Then the next. Thank God the litter was just three. I’d seen bigger on adoption days.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Hey, it’s my lunch break.”

“Oh crap. Sorry, Desiree. I’ll be right out.” I double-checked that the heating pad was working, then headed to the front of the store.

Desiree stood there with her purse. “I’ll be back in thirty. You call Dr. Genner’s office yet?”

I winced.

“There are two shoppers in the store right now. If you get a break, maybe you can call? Otherwise, you can do it after I get back.” With that, she was gone.

I assisted the two customers. Then three more.

A lull allowed me to call the vet’s office, and they arranged to fit me in at the end of the day.

I felt guilty they were making room—but was also incredibly grateful because, if there was something wrong, I wanted to know.

Or if there was anything I needed to be doing, but wasn’t. Whatever it took to succeed.

Desiree returned.

I hustled to check on my little charges and found them asleep.

I shoveled down a sandwich, set an alarm, and then headed back into the store to do more restocking.

When the alarm sounded, it caught me off guard.

Upon arriving at the box, I found three sleeping kittens. I prepared their food and then gently woke each to feed them. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be too tough.

Except you’re a guy who needs eight hours of solid sleep to be able to function. Two feedings in the middle of the night are going to be brutal.

Well, yeah. It would. But these little creatures were more important than my beauty sleep.

Once the store was closed and the money was in the safe, I packed up my stuff and headed home. I had several hours of paperwork to do, but I could do it at my dining room table.

Organizing everything at home took little time, and I was heating a quick meal in the microwave when my phone rang.

“Hey Quinta, how’s it going?” I injected as much enthusiasm as I could. Not that I wasn’t happy to hear from my niece—I just happened to be exhausted.

“Hey Uncle Sam, how’s it going?”

I rubbed my face. “It’ll be better once you’re home and working at the store.

Soon, right?” We were already in the second week of May.

Her semester at UCLA ended weeks ago, but she said she had to stay to finish up some last-minute things.

Since I hadn’t attended college in person, I couldn’t really question this.

“Yeah. Soon. I just have some labs to complete. Another couple of weeks. That’s okay, right? You don’t really need me, do you?”

I eyed the box of kittens. Having a second person in the house would make all the difference in the world. Still, something in her tone had my senses on high alert. “Everything okay?”

“Of course.” Said too quickly.

Still, who was I to push? She was nineteen and really mature. I needed to give her space. “Another week or two won’t make a huge difference. Just—” I held in the sigh. “You remember that Mandy went into early labor? She’s on maternity leave. I thought you’d overlap, and now I’m down a person.”

“You’ve got Desiree, right?”

“Sure, but she’s only part-time.”

Silence.

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear my problems. You’re sure everything’s okay?” I tried to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Yep. I have to go. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love you.”

“I love you too. Take care of yourself.”

“Right. Bye.”

The microwave beeped. Our entire conversation had lasted less time than it took to heat a meal.

I sighed. I’d be okay. Surely I could make this work. I’d been shuffling and adjusting and making things work since the accident. Ten years. I’d been responsible for Quinta for ten years. Somehow, she’d gone from nine to nineteen in a heartbeat.

Whereas I felt like the journey from nineteen to twenty-nine had been a brutal slog. No regrets about taking care of my niece. Just…wishing I might have a reprieve. Her going away to college should’ve been that—but I’d worried nonstop.

You never stop worrying about your children. That’s the choice you make when you become a parent. My mother’s words echoed in my mind.

I pressed my hands to my eyes to hold in the tears. You should be here, Mom. To advise me. Or, better yet, Marcella and Lucius should be here to care for their precious daughter. Alas, my parents, brother, and sister-in-law were all gone. Quinta only had me—which meant I had to take care of myself.

After grabbing my meal, I settled at the table, checked my phone, and dug into my food. I had an hour before the next feeding. I prayed that I could get a lot of work done before then.

Because tonight was going to be damn long.