Chapter Sixteen Awkward
Ephram
I arrived at the animal shelter fifteen minutes early and immediately regretted it.
Not because I was late, or because I was unprepared. I had notes. I had the filming outline Lydia had sent me. I had checked the battery on my phone twice and wiped the lens with the corner of my sleeve before realizing that probably made it worse.
I regretted it because the shelter did not respect time, order, or personal space.
The front door opened directly into noise.
Dogs barking in overlapping rhythms, a volunteer laughing while trying to untangle leashes, the unmistakable smell of disinfectant layered over something warmer and more alive.
A cat darted across the hallway and disappeared into a room marked STAFF ONLY like it had a schedule of its own.
I stopped just inside the door and took a breath.
This was fine. This was manageable. I dealt with unpredictable environments for a living. The fact that none of them were wearing badges didn’t fundamentally change that.
A woman at the front desk smiled at me. “You must be the officer who is here to film the social media videos.”
I nodded. “Sergeant North.”
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “We are very excited for the help on social outreach.”
I smiled politely and immediately wondered if I looked like someone who could inspire excitement on camera.
She gestured toward a clipboard. “You can set up wherever you like. We usually recommend starting in the cat room. It’s a little quieter.”
Quieter was relative, but I appreciated the suggestion.
I moved toward the indicated hallway,to find the cat room. There were quite a few in cages, watching me or ignoring me. There were some empty cages, waiting for future inmates.
For a shelter that had just opened, there were certainly a lot of animals here.
I pulled my phone out and opened the notes again. Short clips with a friendly tone and no lecturing.
I read that last line twice.
This was not an arrest briefing. This was not a public safety announcement. This was supposed to be approachable. Human was the word my boss had used.
Human was harder to plan for because what exactly did that mean?
I looked around the cat room and paused, unsure where to stand. I set my phone on a small stand the shelter had provided and adjusted the angle. Too high, then too low. I stepped back, then forward again.
This would be easier with Lydia here. The thought was immediate and unwelcome in its accuracy.
I checked the time. It was still early. Of course I was early. I leaned against the wall and tried to observe instead of control my situation. I couldn’t really do anything until Lydia was here anyways and she didn’t strike me as the sort of person to be on time.
A cat knocked over a toy mouse that squeaked obnoxiously.
A volunteer popped her head in. “You can talk to them. It helps.”
“Talk,” I repeated.
She smiled sympathetically. “They respond to calm voices.”
That I supposed could do.
I cleared my throat and tried a few words under my breath, testing the sound of them. They sounded stiff, formal, and entirely wrong.
I was not going to be good at this. My boss was going to be unhappy. I had never failed at an assignment before. I took a deep breath, trying to ground myself.
The door opened behind me.
“Okay,” Lydia said, her voice easy and unhurried. “Rule number one is that you are not allowed to look like you are being audited.”
I turned towards Lydia with relief.
She stood in the doorway, hair pulled back casually, purse slung over her shoulder. She looked comfortable in a baggy sweater and leggings.
“I look like I’m being audited?” I almost smiled at the words.
“You look like you are about to give a press conference,” she replied. “Which isn’t what we are here to do.”
“I am trying to be prepared.”
“I know. That’s the problem,” she said gently, going over to one of the cats and poking a finger in their cage. “Hi kitty cat.”
I exhaled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “I don’t know how you do this.”
She stepped into the room, greeting the cats softly as she passed. “You mean social media videos?”
“I mean coming into a situation that is totally new and being relaxed about it,” I clarified.
“I panic later,” she mentioned with a grin. “But that’s only if it doesn’t go well.”
She set her bag down and glanced at my phone setup. “This is fine. But you are thinking too much.”
“That is also not new,” I murmured.
She smiled and adjusted the angle with a practiced hand. “We start small. No introductions, no speeches, just some footage.”
“Footage of what?” I wondered
“Of you,” she said. “Being normal.”
I stared at her.
Lydia laughed. “I know. It’s terrifying, but trust me people want to see the real you, not some polished version.”
“I’m not polished.”
“You are polished adjacent,” she said. “We will sand that down.”
I watched as Lydia opened a cage door.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?” I asked.
“The staff said as long as the door was closed to the hallway, we could take out any cat with a green tag on the door of the cage. These are the cats that are friendly and get along with other cats,” Lydia explained, pulling the cat out and gently setting it on the floor before opening another cage.
“We can’t film without having some cats in the video. ”
“How will we know what cage to put them back in?” I wondered.
“The collars have their names on them and the cages do as well. It’s a simple system,” Lydia told me. She gave me a grin. “Want to open a few cages or are you afraid of getting cat hair on your uniform?”
“You're having fun, aren’t you?” I carefully opened the cage of a large orange cat.
“Absolutely. If we have fun, the video will appeal to the viewers,” Lydia told me.
One of the cats chose that moment to jump onto the bench between us, startling me just enough to earn a soft laugh from Lydia.
“See,” she said. “That’s usable.”
“That was a flinch.”
“That was human,” she corrected. “Let’s just pet and play with the cats for a while.”
I took a breath and crouched slightly, extending a hand toward the cat without touching it. The cat sniffed once, unimpressed, then turned its attention back to Lydia.
“She likes you better,” I dryly observed.
“She likes people who do not expect anything from her,” Lydia replied.
I filed that away.
We played with the cats. It was awkward because I knew we were being filmed but it was also not terrible. Mostly because Lydia was having so much fun. She laughed, she threw toys for the cats, she petted them, and she even let a kitten play with her hair.
“You’re doing fine. You just have to stop treating this like something you could fail at,” Lydia said after a few minutes, checking the screen.
She glanced at me, expression warm and happy. I found myself wishing I was the cause of that look more often. A kitten grabbed me around the ankle and began climbing my leg. Thankful for the distraction, I carefully extracted the kitten’s claws from the fabric of my pants and held onto it.
“He likes you,” Lydia teased as the kitten tried to chew on my name tag.
“He’s a small nuisance,” I murmured, petting the soft fur. “I imagine he needs someone with a lot of energy to spare.”
“Maybe someone with a child will adopt him before Christmas,” Lydia mentioned. She tilted her head. “I wonder if I could talk Mom and Dad into getting a cat for the inn.”
“Would that be allowed? It’s a public space with a commercial kitchen. It might be against the rules,” I replied with a frown.
“I would get one for myself but I’m not home a lot with being so busy at the inn,” Lydia said regretfully. “Although they do say cats don’t require as much attention as dogs. I think if someone gets a pet they should be a bit of a homebody.”
I supposed I fit that description. Besides work and the grocery store, I really didn’t get out much.
I absentmindedly set the kitten down, before noticing a cat on the bench.
It was gray, short-haired, with one ear tipped slightly forward like it had been bent once and never corrected.
It sat with its paws tucked neatly beneath its chest, tail curled along its side, watching the room without trying to own it.
I crouched without realizing I was doing it, letting it sniff my fingers.
The cat’s eyes tracked the movement, calm but alert. It didn’t retreat but sniffed my fingers before rubbing its head against my fingers.
“Well,” Lydia said quietly beside me, “there you are.”
“There I am?” I echoed, uncertain what she meant.
She nodded toward the cat. “That one. That’s the cat for you.”
I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“That cat likes you and you like it." Lydia looked at the collar. “His name is Felix.”
“I didn’t —” I started, then stopped. “I’m not intending to adopt a pet.”
Lydia smiled, the kind that suggested she knew better but would not press yet. “You are very obvious when you forget to be guarded.”
“I am not guarded,” I defended myself.
She raised an eyebrow. “You are professionally guarded.”
That was probably fair, I decided as I petted the cat.
“It says here Felix is a senior cat whose owner had to give him up when he went to the nursing home. Felix is calm, mostly sleeps, and enjoys the occasional pet. He prefers being alone but does okay with other cats but not dogs,” Lydia read from the character sheet on the cage.
“Hi Fellix,” I greeted the cat softly before standing up. “I can’t have a cat right now.”
“Why not? He likes you and you like him,” Lydia observed, coming over to give Felix a pat on the head.
“My house is currently uninhabitable,” I continued. “The furnace quit so there is no heat. I can’t have running water because the pipes will freeze again. It would be irresponsible until I have all the repairs done.”
Lydia nodded. “Correct.”
I blinked. “That isn’t what I expected you to say.”
She smiled. “You don’t need to adopt a cat today. Or tomorrow. Or even this year.”
I frowned slightly. “You are being suspiciously reasonable.”
“I’m being accurate,” she replied. “Wanting something does not obligate you to take it before you are ready.”
“I’m not—” I stopped, then corrected myself. “I suppose I’m thinking about it.”
Lydia’s smile softened. “I think you and Felix would make a great team.”
The certainty in her voice caught me off guard. I turned to look at her fully, something unspoken hovering between us.