Page 100 of Electric Touch

“I didn’t know that,” she cocks her head. “In what way?”

“Cat scratch fever.”

“Are you making that up?”

“No,” I laugh. “Why would I? A kid in my middle school got scratched while he was out at the baseball park. He stayed out, didn’t clean it up, it got infected. It’s called cat scratch fever. He was so sick. He got a bad fever and a horrible rash, these huge bumps on his arm.”

“The first aid kit is in that cabinet,” she points and goes to the sink to wash her arm.

This isn’t how I envisioned our reunion after a week of not seeing one another. Yesterday had been a total washout. I felt like shit for the whole day and didn’t want to dump that on her doorstep.

The first aid kit is huge, almost like something a paramedic carries. I put it on the table and open the box.

“Did I just educate you on something?” I grin.

“I have no reason to know about cats.”

“You know the history of tulips. The background of a random rollercoaster,” I remind her. “Would have thought you’d research cats before you got one.”

“It was spur of the moment. But I’ll be doing that as soon as we sterilise and patch this up.”

“Okay, tell me why you adopted a cat again?” I usher her to the bench. Opening some antibacterial wipes, I get down on my knees beside her and start to clean up the wounds.

“Because I’m crazy, clearly,” she screws up her face from the sting. I apologise, but she tells me to continue and make sure I clean every single one efficiently. “I’m going to take it back when I find the little beast. Can you return cats twenty-four hours after adopting one?”

“No idea,” I laugh. “Never done that before.”

“I need to take it to a different shelter, so they don’t think I can’t handle the furry demon.”

“It’s probably scared of the new environment.”

After making sure everything is clean, I put cream on the cuts, then band aids big enough to cover them all.

“I can’t keep it,” she sighs. “I knew I should have gone with an old cat. One who just wants to live out its last few years in comfort, getting fat and sleeping all day.”

Finished with my task, I throw everything in the garbage and put away the box. I lean my butt against the kitchen counter, noting she looks tired. There are dark circles under her eyes. “Want me to go find it? What’s its name, by the way?”

“Didn’t you hear? Satan.”

“Come on, you didn’t name it that.” I push off and walk through the archway back into the living room. Adrestia follows behind me. When I glance back, I burst out laughing. “What are you going to do with that?” I ask in amusement.

“Defend myself. It’s a shield.”

“It’s a pizza tray.”

“It’ll do the job. Trust me, when the little monster attacks you, you’ll wish you had one too. I might even buy one of those suits they wear when training attack or military dogs.”

I hold back a laugh. She sounds serious. “Why don’t you just stay here while I go find him… her?”

“Him. And his name is Jerry.”

“Huh,” I smirk. “You got a mouse around here called Tom?”

“That’s the wrong way round. Tom is the cat.”

“Yeah, I know, I was being funny. Never mind.”

I head out to find this evil cat she’s adopted. After a good ten-minute search, I still haven’t found it. “Maybe it ran out when I came in?”

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