(AA: yeah, okay, I am stretching the definition of "minifill" at this point...)
He had a list of non-cat-related things he needed to do, but somehow he ended up staying there on the couch with the cat in his lap until he heard Karen disembark from a taxi out front. The cat protested being shifted aside so he could get up, then immediately claimed the warm spot he'd left behind. Matt put coffee on, and tried to finger-comb his hair into submission, while he listened to Karen make her way upstairs. It sounded like she was carrying a lot more than just litter...
Her knock sent the cat bolting into the bedroom. "Hi," Matt said as he opened the door. "Thank you for--what is that?"
She lifted the large plastic...thing in one hand. "Litterbox. The dome has a spot for an activated charcoal filter, which, I don't know if that'll necessarily help with your, uh, problem, but I figured better safe than sorry. Where is it?"
"Hiding," Matt said, and stood back so she could get inside with the bags. "You didn't have to get all, uh, all this."
"I might've gotten carried away," Karen admitted. "But I also know that cat pee is literally the worst smell in the universe, and then I thought, well, if I think it's bad..."
Matt hadn't thought that far ahead, actually. "I appreciate it. What else did you get?"
She set the bags on the table and started unpacking them. "Wet food, dry food, scratching board, y'know, so it's got something to dig its claws into besides your furniture, uh, that came with a bag of catnip, a couple of toys...oh, yeah, and the litter."
Matt picked up one of the toys, a teardrop-shaped bit of felt with a bell inside. It took him a moment to realize it was supposed to be a mouse. "How much do I owe you for all this?"
"Mmm, let's say twenty-five and we'll call it even."
There was no way all this stuff cost less than fifty dollars, but contrary to rumor Matt could occasionally swallow his pride. Especially when Karen was in full caretaker mode. He was lucky to still be in the circle of people she felt like taking care of, after all. "Thank you," he said quietly, and went into the bedroom to find his wallet.
The sound of litter hitting the plastic pan piqued the cat's attention; her heart was still racing, tail lashing the floor, but she crept to the bedroom door to watch Karen set the box up. Definitely somebody's pet, once. Matt nudged her with his foot. "Hey, asshole, come say hi."
"You can't call--oh my god, it's so cute!"
The cat, if anything, crouched lower to the floor.
"I, uh, she kind of followed me home from work," Matt explained.
Karen remained kneeling, but she turned so she was facing the bedroom and stretched out a hand. "I figured that. You didn't really name her Asshole, did you?"
"Of course not." Matt decided to take a gamble and popped the lid on one of the cans of wet food. That brought the cat running, though she shied away from Karen along the way. "I haven't named her because I'm not keeping her."
Karen gave a low whistle. "I can see why. That is a very pregnant kitty."
"I noticed, yeah." She wolfed down the wet food like her life depended on it, and Matt reached for the paper towels again just in case. "I'm taking her to a vet tomorrow and hopefully they'll have some leads on a shelter or something. The once I called weren't very enthusiastic."
Karen nodded. "In that case, I probably bought way too much food."
"Eh, it's all right. Shelters take donations, right?"
The cat finished devouring the food, and signaled her appreciation by rubbing up against Matt's shins and purring like an outboard motor. Karen tried reaching out a hand again, and this time the cat deigned to give her a sniff. "Do you want to know what she looks like?" Karen asked.
Colors, right. Cats came in colors. "Sure."
"Hmm. Her top parts are kind of a gray-brown tabby pattern. You know, stripes." She managed to get in a few scritches between the ears. "But her legs and face and belly are all white. And she's got such blue eyes, they're so pretty."
Matt ran a hand down the cat's soft flank, trying to picture it in his head. "So what you're saying is I have at least two different colors of fur on my pants."
"I wasn't gonna say anything," she said, with a wobble in her voice that probably meant she was suppressed a laugh. But then she straightened up and asked, "How's your shoulder?"
He shrugged with his left. "Hurts. The sling's mostly to remind me not to move it too much."
"Did you--are you gonna see a doctor about it?"
"My, uh, the nurse friend I told you about. She's gonna come by and have a look." He was trying not to think too hard about whether it would need surgery, and how exactly he would explain the rest of his...everything...to a doctor if it came to that.
Karen nodded at that. "Okay. Well, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
"I will. Thanks again, Karen."
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Then she bent down and addressed the cat. "Don't let Matt call you an asshole, sweetie."
"She bit me," Matt protested. "And she threw up all over the floor."
"All cats do that kind of thing."
"Well, then all cats are assholes."
He saw her out and went back to the couch. Within ninety seconds the cat was at his side, pressed against his thigh with her feet tucked up under her body. "I'm just being honest," Matt told her. "From one asshole to another."
Minifill: Mat and Cats (Part the Fourth)
He had a list of non-cat-related things he needed to do, but somehow he ended up staying there on the couch with the cat in his lap until he heard Karen disembark from a taxi out front. The cat protested being shifted aside so he could get up, then immediately claimed the warm spot he'd left behind. Matt put coffee on, and tried to finger-comb his hair into submission, while he listened to Karen make her way upstairs. It sounded like she was carrying a lot more than just litter...
Her knock sent the cat bolting into the bedroom. "Hi," Matt said as he opened the door. "Thank you for--what is that?"
She lifted the large plastic...thing in one hand. "Litterbox. The dome has a spot for an activated charcoal filter, which, I don't know if that'll necessarily help with your, uh, problem, but I figured better safe than sorry. Where is it?"
"Hiding," Matt said, and stood back so she could get inside with the bags. "You didn't have to get all, uh, all this."
"I might've gotten carried away," Karen admitted. "But I also know that cat pee is literally the worst smell in the universe, and then I thought, well, if I think it's bad..."
Matt hadn't thought that far ahead, actually. "I appreciate it. What else did you get?"
She set the bags on the table and started unpacking them. "Wet food, dry food, scratching board, y'know, so it's got something to dig its claws into besides your furniture, uh, that came with a bag of catnip, a couple of toys...oh, yeah, and the litter."
Matt picked up one of the toys, a teardrop-shaped bit of felt with a bell inside. It took him a moment to realize it was supposed to be a mouse. "How much do I owe you for all this?"
"Mmm, let's say twenty-five and we'll call it even."
There was no way all this stuff cost less than fifty dollars, but contrary to rumor Matt could occasionally swallow his pride. Especially when Karen was in full caretaker mode. He was lucky to still be in the circle of people she felt like taking care of, after all. "Thank you," he said quietly, and went into the bedroom to find his wallet.
The sound of litter hitting the plastic pan piqued the cat's attention; her heart was still racing, tail lashing the floor, but she crept to the bedroom door to watch Karen set the box up. Definitely somebody's pet, once. Matt nudged her with his foot. "Hey, asshole, come say hi."
"You can't call--oh my god, it's so cute!"
The cat, if anything, crouched lower to the floor.
"I, uh, she kind of followed me home from work," Matt explained.
Karen remained kneeling, but she turned so she was facing the bedroom and stretched out a hand. "I figured that. You didn't really name her Asshole, did you?"
"Of course not." Matt decided to take a gamble and popped the lid on one of the cans of wet food. That brought the cat running, though she shied away from Karen along the way. "I haven't named her because I'm not keeping her."
Karen gave a low whistle. "I can see why. That is a very pregnant kitty."
"I noticed, yeah." She wolfed down the wet food like her life depended on it, and Matt reached for the paper towels again just in case. "I'm taking her to a vet tomorrow and hopefully they'll have some leads on a shelter or something. The once I called weren't very enthusiastic."
Karen nodded. "In that case, I probably bought way too much food."
"Eh, it's all right. Shelters take donations, right?"
The cat finished devouring the food, and signaled her appreciation by rubbing up against Matt's shins and purring like an outboard motor. Karen tried reaching out a hand again, and this time the cat deigned to give her a sniff. "Do you want to know what she looks like?" Karen asked.
Colors, right. Cats came in colors. "Sure."
"Hmm. Her top parts are kind of a gray-brown tabby pattern. You know, stripes." She managed to get in a few scritches between the ears. "But her legs and face and belly are all white. And she's got such blue eyes, they're so pretty."
Matt ran a hand down the cat's soft flank, trying to picture it in his head. "So what you're saying is I have at least two different colors of fur on my pants."
"I wasn't gonna say anything," she said, with a wobble in her voice that probably meant she was suppressed a laugh. But then she straightened up and asked, "How's your shoulder?"
He shrugged with his left. "Hurts. The sling's mostly to remind me not to move it too much."
"Did you--are you gonna see a doctor about it?"
"My, uh, the nurse friend I told you about. She's gonna come by and have a look." He was trying not to think too hard about whether it would need surgery, and how exactly he would explain the rest of his...everything...to a doctor if it came to that.
Karen nodded at that. "Okay. Well, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
"I will. Thanks again, Karen."
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Then she bent down and addressed the cat. "Don't let Matt call you an asshole, sweetie."
"She bit me," Matt protested. "And she threw up all over the floor."
"All cats do that kind of thing."
"Well, then all cats are assholes."
He saw her out and went back to the couch. Within ninety seconds the cat was at his side, pressed against his thigh with her feet tucked up under her body. "I'm just being honest," Matt told her. "From one asshole to another."
The cat did not deign to reply.