Chapter 6
Chapter Six
W hile I scoured my contact list to find someone available for emergency ceiling repairs, Gary resumed the search for the felonious feline. He found it outside on the roof, near one of the open air vents leading into the attic. We watched from the backyard as the cat licked itself for a good ten minutes. At one point, it lifted a paw and seemed to give us the finger.
After pleasuring itself, the cat sauntered over to a nearby oak tree and effortlessly leaped onto one of the outstretched branches. It climbed down to the ground, then strut across the yard toward the neighbor’s house. It turned back to look at us one final time, a smirk on its whiskered face.
“That cat is an asshole,” I said.
Gary shrugged. But he didn’t disagree with me.
In the neighbor’s yard, the cat went to the back door where there was a bowl of food and water waiting. It nibbled and sipped a bit, then flipped its tail our way. After that, it resumed pleasuring itself out in the open, where everyone could see. ASS-HOLE.
That’s when the back door opened, and a woman stepped out on the porch to refill the cat’s food and water. I decided I was going to put an end to the cat trespassing once and for all. I marched over, Gary at my heels. “Is that your cat?” I called, ready to give this woman a piece of my mind.
“No, it’s not,” the woman said. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting.
“Then whose is it?” I countered.
“You the new owner?” The woman jabbed a finger at Aunt Catherine’s place.
“Technically.”
“Then, technically, it’s yours.” The woman scooped the cat up, noogied its head, then stuffed it into my arms. The cat didn’t look any happier with the situation than I did.
“I’ve just been feedin’ it time to time,” said the woman. “Ever since Cathy passed. She’s a real bitch, that one.”
Gary and I exchanged a look. I can’t say I knew my great aunt well, but it seemed harsh to call her a bitch, considering she was dead.
“Not Cathy,” said the woman. “I mean the cat.” The neighbor woman thought about it for another minute. “Well, actually, Cathy too.”
The cat started squirming to wiggle out of my arms. So I squeezed it tighter. Which only pissed it off more.
“Its name is Purrfect, ‘cept with a PU instead of a PE. Purrrrr-fect.” The neighbor woman purred the name as she said it, then pointed at the collar. “See?”
I pushed aside a clump of fur so I could read the tag. Purrfect must have thought I was going to strangle her, because she sank her claws and teeth into my flesh. The tag on the collar did indeed read Purrfect, and listed the address of Aunt Catherine’s house, which, technically, was now mine.
“Cathy loved that flea bag more than anything.”
Gary looked at me like my doctor had just given me a cancer diagnosis, and was trying to assess which of the five stages I was in.
For the record, it was denial. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just drop it off at the shelter on my way home.”
Gary, the neighbor woman, and Purrfect all looked at me like I had suggested we steal the donation box for the special needs children from the orphanage and use it to tip strippers.
“Ha ha. Just kidding,” I said. None of them looked like they believed me, especially Purrfect. Which was smart of her, because I wasn’t kidding. I wasn’t kidding at all.
“I’m sure you and your husband will give her a lovely home,” said the neighbor woman, as she headed back toward her own yard.
“Oh. No. He’s not my husband,” I said.
“Well, that was emphatic,” Gary mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.
The neighbor woman didn’t seem to believe that either. She had a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile on her face. Even though she didn’t actually know anything.
“We’re not married,” I said again.
“What you kids do with your relationships these days is your own business,” said the neighbor woman, as she turned and walked away.
“There is no relationship,” I called after her. “There is no business!”
Purrfect thrashed in my arms as the neighbor woman disappeared into her house. In case her feelings about me holding her were not already clear, she let out a long, woeful moan.
“Perfect,” I said.
“No, purrrr-fect,” Gary purred.
“Cute.” Purrfect twisted in my arms and I had to use both hands to keep her from escaping. I knew that if I put her down, she would make her way back into the attic, where enough damage had been done already.
“I better take her home.” I had yet to find a ceiling repair specialist, but it was difficult to make calls when you were trying to wrangle a squirming cat. “You know anything about fixing large holes in flimsy ceilings?”
“No. I’m actually not very handy.” No kidding. “Besides, I think you fired me, remember?”
Actually, I didn’t remember. I had forgotten about firing Gary with all the bedlam and chaos. “Oh yeah. Right.” I felt bad about firing him, but then I remembered his aversion to greige and his wallpaper fetish. Not to mention dumping paint all over me and throwing me through a ceiling. I was well within my rights to fire him. He was lucky I was too lazy to leave a Yelp review.
Purrfect made a sound like an ambulance siren that was running low on batteries. I had to get her back to my apartment before she clawed open my jugular.
“Thanks for …” I racked my brain for something I could say to finish the sentence, but my mind was all blank. I went with “… guilting me into taking in a sociopathic cat.”
“You’re welcome?”
We stood there looking at each other as the silence went from uncomfortable to awkward to weird.
Gary looked like he had something else to say. Whatever it was, I had no interest in hearing it.
I turned and walked away
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Gary called after me.
“Maybe,” I called back. Not in a million years.
I made my way back to Charlotte and tossed Purrfect in the back seat, eager to put my brief relationship with Gary Wright far behind me and head for home. You know how you hear people say that cats always land on their feet? It isn’t true. When I tossed Purrfect into the back of my BMW, she bounced off the back seat cushion, then landed on her head on the floor.
“Sorry.” She made another moaning sound, then hissed. That one, I suppose, I deserved.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I activated the child safety locks. I figured they would work on cats, too. I didn’t think Purrfect could open the car doors, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Before shifting into drive, I tilted the rearview mirror to look Purrfect in the eyes. “You be good back there, okay? For example, don’t pee on anything.” In hindsight, I should have been more comprehensive in my instructions.
When I first got Charlotte at the dealership, I had splurged. All the options. Upgrades for days. I wanted Charlotte dressed to impress. One of the more expensive options I splurged for was the luxury seating package, which added the multi-contour Napa leather seats.
Named after the company that developed the unique tanning process, a company located in Napa Valley California, I imagined it must somehow involve the cattle ranchers hand feeding the cows wine grapes as the cows reclined on a red cushioned sofa, with a bowl of fresh fruits beside them, so their hides got extra soft and squishy. Napa leather was the seating option of choice for discriminating luxury car buyers.
Turns out, it was also the leather of choice for disgruntled cats. Not to sit upon, but to eat. When I got home and opened the back door, my upgraded seats looked like they had been slathered in honey and then fed to a den of grizzly bears.
“Bad kitty! Bad!” Purrfect looked up at me with her big blue eyes, batting her eyelashes.
Meow
Which in cat language, roughly translates to “fuck you”.
* * *
Inside my apartment, I gave Purrfect the grand tour. “There’s the kitchen. That room back there is the bedroom. This is the couch.” It was a small apartment.
Despite being a real estate agent, I didn’t own a house of my own. You see, home ownership is a lot like having a relationship. There’s a lot of upkeep involved. A lot of maintenance. Things break. It’s better to keep it temporary. That way, when things inevitably go sideways, you simply move on to the next project.
Once Purrfect made herself at home, curling up on my bed and getting cat hair everywhere, I opened up my laptop and ordered a cat carrier from Amazon. One with a lock. My plan was to put a “Free Cat” post out on social media, and if there weren’t any takers, I would drive her down to the shelter. Somehow, Purrfect must have known what I was up to because she hissed at me from under the kitchen table.
I was about to close my laptop when Amazon generously suggested that I should also buy a scratching post. I didn’t want scratch marks all over my furniture, so I clicked “yes”. Then Amazon suggested a litter box. Absolutely. Cat food. I suppose. Cat treats. Just this once. While we’re at it, how about a catnip stuffed, mouse shaped chew toy? You only live once. Unless you’re a cat. Then you live nine times. After spending three hundred and seventy-two dollars, I had officially spoiled Purrfect. Rags to riches in a day.
“Happy?” I called into the bedroom
Meow
“Right back at you.”
That night, I woke up sometime after midnight with the weird feeling that I was being watched. Because I was. Purrfect sat on the nightstand, staring at me in the dark. Probably trying to figure out how to smother me in my sleep.
I pulled the pillow over my head, but I could still feel her eyes on me. “What do you want?”
Meow
I threw the pillow, but she ducked, and I knocked over a lamp instead.
Meow
“Are you hungry?” She just sat there. “Thirsty?” Still, she sat.
I held up my hands, palms open, so she could see that I was unarmed. Slowly, gently, I extended an open hand. Purrfect braced herself, but held her ground.
I brushed her cheek with my fingertips. Miraculously, she didn’t flinch. I placed my hand on her head. Not only did she not recoil, she seemed to lean into it.
Emboldened, I went all-in. My fingers caressed her ears. They were as soft as velvet. No, softer than velvet. Napa leather soft.
I let my hand sink into the fur behind her neck. She arched her back as I stroked her from head to tail. She didn’t groan. Didn’t hiss. I tried another long stroke, then another again.
As soon as I removed my hand, she stepped toward me. Her head nudged under my chin. She cuddled up against me. And then fell asleep. I don’t know how long I just laid there, listening to her purr. How nice it must be, I thought. One moment you’re holed up in some dark attic, all alone, just fighting to survive. The next moment, someone swoops in to take care of you. Spoil you. Give you their love. Even if maybe you didn’t exactly deserve it.
Like me.