15. Smelly Cat
15
Smelly Cat
Ben
T his isn't going to happen. I have never and will never be a cat person. Amelia is standing in front of me with messy hair, nervously pulling on her ratty T-shirt. Her eyes are full of fear. And I feel a small crack in my armour.
"Ben, please." She takes a step closer. "My landlady has to make some repairs to my boiler tomorrow morning, and I can't find anywhere else for Smutty to stay. She doesn't know that I have him because she won't allow cats. Please." Her voice breaks and a tiny tear runs down her cheek. Amelia is not someone who will fake cry to get what she wants. Come to think of it, Amelia is also not a person to ask for help. If she’s here begging me to take her cat it must be serious and mean a lot to her.
"Come here." I hold out my arms and she takes tentative steps before finally allowing herself to sink into my embrace. It feels so natural, so right.
"Smutty is my whole world. I can't let my landlady know that I have him, she’ll make me give him up. I can't lose him," she cries softly into my chest. Ah fuck, how can I say no to that?
"Fine."
"Fine?" She lifts her head and gives me a big grin. "Did you hear that, Smutty? You can stay with Ben!" The only response we get is some awful retching before the cat spits a tiny furball onto my kitchen floor. Amelia‘s cheeks turn pink and she rushes to grab a kitchen towel from the counter.
"He doesn't do that often. If he got it out now he'll be good for a few weeks," she mumbles apologetically as she mops up the vomit.
"Sure." I wipe my face with my hands. This is so not how I’d imagined this evening would go. "Do you want some dinner?" I ask her.
In the hope that's what she was coming over for I defrosted some pasta sauce.
"No, can't, sorry. I have to go home and make sure there’s nothing left to give Smutty away. Right, he gets dry food throughout the day and wet food in the evening. All the food is in the box. You should put the litter box somewhere he can easily get to and place him in it at least three times tonight even if he doesn't need to go, so he remembers where it is. There are tons of toys but mainly he just sleeps," she rattles off instructions whilst retreating towards the door. Smutty and I follow her, not ready for her to leave.
"Bye, Smutty." She picks up the furball, cuddles him and presses her lips to his head. He gives a little meow before she places him on the floor again.
"Thank you, Ben. I’ll text you all the instructions." She places her soft lips on my cheek and it takes everything for me not to pull her close for a proper kiss. She’s given me blue balls the whole week, ignoring my messages again after that evening we had and clearly there is no relief in sight.
She slides out of the door before I can reply, leaving me and the cat alone in the corridor. He sits on the floor next to me and stares at the closed door.
"Welcome to my house, I guess." I stuff my hands in my jeans’ pockets and grin at him. He just gives me a look of discontent before turning his nose up and walking away from me like I don't exist. Fuck my life.
O kay, I swear this furball hates me already and he’s only been in the house for an hour. I put the cat litter tray in the utility room. The first time it took ten minutes for me to catch him so I could show him where his fucking toilet is. But he’s not stupid; the second time he saw me coming and had me chase him through the house for twenty minutes before I finally cornered him. In return, he gave my hand a swipe and I now wear three red scratches as a badge of honour.
But we’re not done. He and I are eyeing each other again. It's like he knows that I need to put him into his litter box at least one more time. But before I can make a move, my phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, are you busy?" Coop asks.
"I'm locked in a battle at the moment. What do you need?"
"What battle?" he asks ignoring my question.
"Long story. Actually, do you have a clue about cats?"
"Cats?"
"Yes, how do you catch one?"
Coop chuckles before I hear him repeat my question to who I assume is his soon-to-be wife.
"Lizzie says use food." Fuck, of course! I head to the kitchen to try to find some treats.
"So, what do you need, Coop?" I say and peek into all the bags on the floor. Eventually I find tins of cat food in a box.
"The recruitment agency confirmed our meeting tomorrow to discuss the general manager role," he sounds determined.
I grab the box of dry food and shake it which seems to work like magic because I barely finished rattling it when the black furball shoots into the kitchen like a lightning bolt.
"Ah, gotcha'" I chuckle.
"Sorry?" Coop asks from the other end of the line.
"Not you. Yes, I'm up for a meeting with an agency. The important thing for me is that we keep control over the bigger picture decisions."
"Shit, Ben, me too. We worked too hard, but I need some more time to enjoy life. I need this," he sighs.
"I get it, Coop. And I agree."
"I won't ask where this change of heart is coming from," he replies.
"I didn't have a change of heart, I never said no," I argue, but we both know I'm full of shit. When he originally told me about the plan I wasn't ready to give it all up.
"Okay let's talk tomorrow. But, Ben, I’ll say it again, whatever this with you and Amelia is, make sure you know what you’re doing. Neither of you can cope with more heartache."
"I told you that’s not what this is about." If I fight it, it isn't true, right?
"Still. I'll see you tomorrow."
I put my phone on the kitchen counter. My eyes drop to Smutty, who is still sitting in front of me staring longingly at the food.
"Alright then, one more look at the toilet and you can have some food, Furball," I say and walk towards the laundry room. I put a few pieces of the dry food on the floor. Smutty looks at it and then back at me and back at the food. Only when I step aside and out of reach of the litter box, he finally strolls in and licks the food from the floor.
My phone pings to alert me to a message.
Amelia
Right, here are the instructions.
She attached an image. It’s a photo of a handwritten note.
"Hey, Furball, that's not going to happen, I’ll tell you now." I stare at the cat. He stares back before climbing into his litter box and squeezing out a little "gift" telling me exactly what he thinks of me.
Me
You better be fucking kidding ‘cause otherwise you can pick him up right this minute.
Amelia
The last bit was a joke.
I can come by tomorrow and take care of most things. What time will you be home?
I sigh and eye the cat again, who is now scratching cat litter on top of his turd. Lovely.
Me
I'm out all day but my housekeeper will be in until five. If you pop by at any time before five he can give you a key so you can come over whenever you want to check on him.
You haven't told me how long he'll be my guest.
It better only be a few days!
I don't really need her to come over because Gustavo can just feed that cat, but I have a feeling the offer to visit is not just to lessen the burden on me but also because she wants to see Smutty. And I will take any chance I get to spend some time with her. That’s my reward for housing the furball.
Amelia
Oh, are you sure? I don't want to bother you, but I can do the whole list so you just need to give him the food in the morning.
It's only for a couple of days. Four at most.
I head to the living room and am about to drop into my recliner chair when I notice that the cat apparently agrees that this is the best seat in the house. He’s lying curled up on the leather recliner and couldn't care less that I'd like to sit there.
"Cat, move it," I command. He briefly opens one of his eyes, glances at me and then snuggles back down and ignores me. Well, fuck you too . I'm about to lift him from the chair when my eyes fall on the scratches on the back of my hand. Maybe this one time, I'll just let it pass. The sofa is comfy too, right?
Me
No, it's fine. Come whenever.
Amelia
Thank you again Ben. I mean it! I know I railroaded you into this but THANK YOU!
Me
You're welcome!
"Furball, am I making a mistake?" I ask. Coop's words echo in my brain. Make sure you know what you do. I know exactly what I'm doing but that doesn't mean it’s a good idea. In fact I'm worried it might be the worst idea I’ve ever had.