Page 48 of Run From Me

“You look lost. Is anyone looking for you?”

I opened the door further and the little thing came closer and rubbed himself against my leg, purring as he got what he wanted. I shifted, taking in the hall one last time, but when I looked down, the cat had already pushed his ass between me and the door.

“Go ahead and make yourself at home, I guess.”

The door closed with ease, something my bruised hip appreciated after the old one. The purple had already started to fade into a yellow green over the last two days of not having to hip thrust to get the old one to latch.

I turned around and watched the cat strut his shit, his little tail flicking back and forth.

“Did my shitty apartment pass inspection?”

The cat didn’t say much, just walked around the open space, disappearing into the bathroom and coming back out a moment later.

“Oh,” I said when he jumped up on my counter. “Maybe stay off the counter.”

I put him back down.

“Maybe you want some water?”

I turned my back on him for a microsecond, and he was back up on the counter, but this time he brushed against me, his tail tickling my nose as he went.

“Oh, for crap’s sake. You don’t listen well, do you?”

He meowed right back.

“You talk back an awful lot. You feel like a boy, but maybe I should check.”

I went to lift him, but he sprang out of the way, so I just waited for him to turn around again. Sure enough there was the telltale sign he was indeed one more male problem in my life.

“Thank goodness. I’d hate to think I’d just insulted a fellow female.”

The stupid cat started to purr.

“Are you as starved for love as me or something? I haven’t even started to pet you. To be fair, you really don’t smell good either.”

I looked at the kitchen sink.

“If I give you water and tuna, on a scale of zero to ten, zero being you’re going to be all sweet and docile and ten being you’re going to rip my face off, what do you think it will be?”

I reached for a bowl like he was ever going to answer me.

I went about getting him the promised water and put it near the sink like, if I kept him close to where I wanted him, he would go in without a fight. I looked in my cabinet for the tuna packet I was certain I had.

The package had barely been ripped open, and the cat was my new bestie.

“Oh, alright. Guess you like tuna.” I had to fight him off to get it out of the package and into another bowl. I put this one in the sink. Good. Maybe I could wash the poor guy and at least make him smell less like death. I watched him as he ate up the only cat-approved food I was sure I had.

“You need a name.”

I leaned forward, supporting myself on the counter with my elbows propped on the hard surface.

“What about Fred?”

He didn’t even look up.

“Bob?”

Nothing. I’d never actually had a pet, so I wasn’t entirely sure what one did to decide on a name.

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