Page 3 of The Summer List

We shuffle inside and are met with a chorus of yowling meows almost as fast as we’re hit by a blast of air conditioning. I only have time to gawk at the towering height of the entryway’s ceiling for half a second before something soft slams into my legs.

I look down at what has to be the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Oh, Bijoux!” Sandy gushes as the cat starts pawing at my shins, still meowing. “He loves you already!”

The cat is grey and completely hairless, with giant ears and pale eyes tucked amongst the wrinkly folds of its face. Without any hair to soften out the shape of its body, the whole cat seems to consist of wrinkly folds of flesh.

I’ve seen pictures of hairless cats before, but it seems nothing can truly prepare you for the shock of being face to face with an animal that’s totally naked.

“And here’s Aurora Rose. Hello, sweet girl!”

I glance over to see a second hairless cat, this one with marbled white and tan skin, rubbing against my mom’s leg. She crouches down to give it a few tentative scratches, and it bumps its head against her hand.

“Poor little things!” Mom coos before looking up at Sandy. “Do you know what happened to them?”

Sandy cocks her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I mean to their fur. Is it a medical thing? It’s so great that you took them in. I’m guessing not a lot of people would.”

I glance between the two of them, and it clicks for me at the exact same time I see a storm cloud gathering on Sandy’s face.

My mom must not know hairless cats are a thing, and Sandy must think they’re the cutest thing in the world.

I watch as Sandy smoothes her features into a mask of the utmost dignity before she takes a few stiff steps over to my mom and bends to pick up Aurora Rose.

“Aurora Rose and Bijoux are Sphinx cats,” she says in a frosty tone. She tilts her chin up to emphasize the awe the end of that sentence is meant to inspire. “Sphinx cats are the premiere breed of hairless cats in the world. They both have immaculate pedigrees and have won several awards.”

My mom’s eyes widen, and she opens and closes her mouth a couple times, like she can’t settle on an appropriate response to finding out she’s mistaken the premiere hairless cat breed in the world for the victim of an unfortunate skin condition. I don’t blame her. We are way beyond the territory of any social script I know.

“Oh!” she says after blinking a couple times. “Hairless cats. Right. I am so sorry. You don’t, um, see them around too much, but now that you mention it, yes, of course. Hairless cats.”

Sandy stands there stroking Aurora Rose’s head like a queen deciding if she wants to grant a royal pardon or not.

“Their eyes are pretty,” I blurt.

Sandy’s attention snaps to me. I bend over so I can avoid her eyes and pretend I’m focused on assuaging the desires of the cat still batting at my shins.

My comment seems to be just what Sandy needed to slip back into sweet and friendly mode; when I find the nerve to glance back up at her, she’s beaming.

“Aren’t they just? I’m so glad you think so. Something tells me you and the kids are going to get along just fine. I stretched out their bathing schedule a little so you and I can get a wash in together before Peter and I leave.”

I freeze. “Bathing?”

Sandy chuckles. “Of course! I was so happy you still took the job after I asked Peter to ask your father if you were up for some high maintenance kitties.”

That part of the conversation was not conveyed to me. One of the best parts of this job was just how low maintenance it sounded. In theory, it’s every introvert’s dream come true: two whole months in a giant house with nothing but feline companionship to interrupt my solitude—and maybe a couple peaceful sunbathing sessions with my best friend while we work through our summer reading lists together.

I just have to survive the rest of this conversation first.

“Sphinx cats’ skin doesn’t absorb oils, of course,” Sandy continues. “After their baths, I’ll show you how to clean out any earwax build-up as well. Oh, and between their toes. That can get a bit gunky.”

She laughs like she’s talking about a sweet and quirky cat habit like sleeping in a dresser drawer or hiding toys behind the couch.

“Of course,” my mom echoes, letting out a laugh of her own that’s tinged with just enough sarcasm to let me know she’s way too amused by the image of me cleaning out cat toe gunk.

“Peter will hopefully be back with his darn neck pillow sometime before our plane takes off, so we should probably get started on their routine.”

My mom claps a hand on my shoulder, and even though I can practically feel her holding back another laugh, the way she rubs her thumb over my shoulder blade is nothing but reassuring.

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