Chapter 15 - Henry
Henry
It had taken nearly a week, but Sandra had gotten in touch with my references and my vet, all of whom had signed off on my being a reliable and trustworthy cat owner. Solo could be mine!
I loaded my new, second cat carrier into the truck and slammed the door.
I didn’t need to coordinate with Jamison this time - it had seemed like it would be weird to invite him along to basically watch me sign some paperwork and go home - so I was wholly on my own schedule.
I’d worked this morning, but as the day wore on my nerves, excitement got the better of me and I’d decided that rather than screw up a project or lose a finger, I’d just chill.
So I’d spent the afternoon watching TheGreat British Bake-Off on my couch with Curie curled in my lap.
It had been delightful. It wasn’t that my job was really stressful - I did what I loved, and most of the time the work was meditative and comforting - but it still felt nice to basically play hooky for an afternoon just to relax and pet my cat.
The problem with spending the afternoon on the couch, though, had been that time passed slowly, and I’d been checking my phone what felt like every two minutes for the last three hours, waiting for it to be close to the time I’d told Sandra I’d be there to pick Solo up.
When I’d scheduled with her, I’d been assuming I’d spend the day working as normal, and the evening made sense.
By hour two of GBBO, it made a lot less sense and I had been kicking myself.
But now it was time. I walked around the truck to the driver’s side and slid into the seat.
Just as I was preparing to press the Start button, my phone buzzed and I snatched it up, part of me afraid it was Sandra calling to say Just kidding, you can’t have Solo after all.
I heaved out a sigh of relief when I realized it wasn’t a phone call at all, but a text. One from Jamison.
Jamison: Tell Solo ‘hi’ for me and give him a snuggle if he’ll let you.
I smiled. I could only hope Solo would be chill about his sudden change in location and let me pet, let alone snuggle, him.
Me: Will do. How are the girls doing?
I couldn’t help but ask, even though I was eager to get on the road to the shelter. I turned the car on and waited until its bluetooth engaged with my phone, just in time to receive a reply from Jamison, which I had the car read out to me as I pulled out of my driveway:
Jamison: Omg they’re doing so good. Minnie spent the whole day out in the open without trying to hide from me, and Kellogg let me pet her. They’re both eagerly eating two meals a day now and judging by the litterbox, their digestive systems work just fine.
Something about the robotic phone voice assuring me that Jamison’s cats’ digestive systems were good to go struck my funny bone, and I laughed out loud.
“Would you like to reply to this message?” asked my phone.
“Yes.”
Me: That’s awesome! Any lap time yet?
Jamison: Yes! Kellogg came out from under the bed while I was working today and decided that it was going to be lap time omgrightnow.
I had to adjust my desk chair so I didn’t crush her between my legs and the bottom of my desk, and I worked like that for nearly an hour before she went off to do whatever it is she does.
The ergonomics were somewhat lacking, but cat! On lap!
I grinned even though he couldn’t see it.
I was so happy that Jamison’s new pets were settling in.
I’d been worried that they’d adjust slowly and he’d have second thoughts, but going by what he’d told me during our texts over the past few days, after a few days of what the fuck is this shit panicked bed- and couch-hiding, they’d made peace with Jamison and his apartment and were starting to be brave.
Before I could dictate a reply, another message from Jamison came in.
Jamison: Are you ready for Solo? What time are you picking him up?
Me: I’m on my way to the shelter now. I’m a little nervous. It’s one thing having him meet Curie in the shelter office; it’ll be another on her turf. What if she won’t share? What if they fight?
Jamison: I’m sure there will be some hissing. But remember, Sandra seems confident they’ll be ok, and she knows what the fuck she’s talking about. She does this for a living.
Me: What if he decides he doesn’t like me?
Jamison: Then I will have a talk with him and correct his bad judgment. You’re awesome, and he should understand that.
A little shudder went through me, half-pleasure at Jamison’s compliment and half-nerves of the ‘what if’ variety. It was all well and good that the human thought I was cool, but cats could be much more judgmental.
I was approaching the shelter already, and rather than immediately reply to Jamison, I took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out as I pulled into the parking lot. “You’ve got this,” I told myself. “He’s a cat. He only weighs ten pounds. You’re a human and you’re in charge.”
Yeah, right.
I turned off my car and picked up my phone out of the cup holder, shoving it into my pocket. Time to face the music. Cat. Cat-music. I seized the carrier and got out of the car.
***
Nearly two hours later, I was hanging over the side of the bed in my guest room, trying to coax Solo out from under it.
On Sandra’s advice, I was going to be keeping him confined to this room for a few days while he and Curie adjusted.
I had kibble in the palm that wasn’t braced against the floor.
“Come on, kitty. You’re safe,” I promised the tip of his nose, which was about all I could see in the gloom under the bed.
A paw snaked out and batted at my hand, managing to extract a piece of kibble in an impressive show of dexterity. Kibble and paw both disappeared into the dark, and I heard crunching noises.
At least he was willing to eat? I sighed.
He was clearly stressed; I should leave him alone to acclimate.
And I should give Curie some attention so she didn’t feel like I had abandoned her in favor of the newcomer.
“Ok,” I told Solo, dropping the remaining kibble on the floor at the edge of the bed and bracing my palm to push myself up.
“I’ll leave you to yourself. Try to eat the food and drink some water. The litterbox is in the corner.”
No answer from the cat, though quite what answer I’d expected, I didn’t know.
I stood up off the bed, pausing to let the head rush from the sudden change in position pass, and left the room, carefully only opening the door as much as I needed to get through it.
I didn’t want Solo to dart out or Curie to sneak in.
Not that she seemed eager to do so, I realized as I spotted her belly-up on one of her pillows across the room.
The princess was exercising the royal prerogative to ignore the interloper.
At the sound of my footsteps crossing the room, she rolled onto her belly, arranging her paws delicately under her until she was in the form of a loaf.
“All good out here?” I asked her, squatting down next to her to scratch her chin.
Curie sniffed warily at my hand, obviously picking up the scents of kibble and Solo, then headbutted me. I was going to choose to interpret that as Yes, all good here, Dad.
I gave her some more scritches. “You’re a good baby. You and Solo are going to be friends. You just need to get used to each other a little.”
Curie didn’t look convinced, but she wasn’t hissing or trying to bite me, so she couldn’t be that mad. I gave her one last pat and stood up. “I should -” I started to inform her, only to be interrupted by the sound of a knock on the front door.
People didn’t just show up at my house - who even did that anymore? - so it took me a moment to process what the sound of the knock meant. I had a visitor? Who? Why?
I looked down at my sweatpants and ratty, stained t-shirt and hoped it wasn’t my mom.
There would be judgment if it was. Oh well, nothing for it but to bite the bullet.
I crossed to the door and pulled it open.
“I didn’t -” I started to defend myself, expecting family with crossed arms. Then I stopped short as I registered the face of my visitor. “Jamison?”
He lifted a bag with the logo of a local restaurant printed on it. “Have you eaten?”
I blinked. Had I eaten? I was pretty sure I’d had a snack during my Bake-off marathon - some dry cereal - but I didn’t remember having dinner.
I’d been so caught up in my eagerness to get to the shelter, and then when Solo and I had arrived home I’d gone right into bonding mode.
“Uh, no,” I managed after a significantly-too-long pause to think. “I forgot.”
“Perfect.” Before I could say anything else, he’d pushed past me into the house. “I brought chicken parm and cannoli.”
As if on cue, my stomach growled. Curie, still lying in the corner, raised her head at the noise and then jumped to her feet when she spotted Jamison and trotted over to us.
“Hello, beautiful,” he greeted her. “I’d pet you but I don’t want to spill dinner.”
My brain was still catching up with itself. I felt like I was operating on a few-seconds delay. “You didn’t have to -” I finally managed, taking the food bag when he shoved it at me and squatted down to belatedly pet the cat.
“I knew you’d forget,” he told me with a friendly roll of his eyes, rubbing Curie’s left ear. “And what are friends for but to feed each other? And…” He looked up and gave me shifty eyes. “I maybe wanted to see the cats. Just a little.”
I finally felt reality snap into the right timeline. “Ah, so the truth comes out,” I said archly. “You’re only feeding me to get to the fur babies.”
“Damn straight. No guilt.” He grinned. “So? How’s he doing?”
I shrugged. “Wary. He’s under the bed in the guest room, but I did get him to eat a little..”