Page 28 of A Little Spilled Milk

She meowed, as if to say, “Hurry up.”

“Okay, boss.” I saluted and grabbed the kitten kibble along with a can of wet food from the pantry. She sat beside my feet, not taking her eyes off me, while I spooned the wet food on top of the kibble.

“What a good girl, sitting so nicely.” I put the dish on the floor, and she tucked into the food.

“It’s funny hearing you talk about a good girl when it’s usually you telling me I’ve been a good boy.” Vinnie stumbled across the floor, yawning.

“Have you been a good boy?” I pulled him close, his morning wood evident though his bunny PJs.

“I try to be.” We shared a kiss, and he sat at the table in an ordinary chair, not his highchair. He yawned again and put his head on the table.

“Vinnie.” I used my Daddy voice, and he glanced at me.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“The table is for eating. If you’re tired, go back to bed.” We didn’t have any plans for the weekend, and other than me having to pump and supply milk to my regular customers, we had no commitments.

“Okay, Daddy.”

He staggered toward the bedroom while I made coffee. Knowing my boy, he’d want caffeine before taking a nap. I brewed two cups, and even though his eyes were closed, he sniffed and grinned.

“You know me so well.”

“That’s because I love you, and also, as your Daddy, that’s my role.”

Tippy joined us as we sipped our brew, and she almost upset Vinnie’s.

“Can we stay home today, Daddy?” Vinnie drained his cup and lay down.

“I don’t see why not.” It didn’t escape me that he called my apartment home. We spent most of our time together here and not just because I was Vinnie’s Daddy. Though we’d gotten rid of the clutter in his place, and I’d bought storage bins and shelving, we both preferred being at my place.

It made sense, as I’d been here longer and I had everything we needed when it came to cooking or laundry, watching TV, or reading from my vast array of books. Besides, my pump, sterilizing equipment, and mason jars were here.

“What if we stayed in bed all day?” He peeked at me. “That’d be fun.”

“What about food?”

He shrugged. “We can get stuff from the fridge and the pantry and eat off trays.”

Tippy stood on Vinnie’s tummy, and he cuddled her. “I love Tippy.”

“I’m sure she feels the same way.”

Vinnie took the kitten in his arms and sat up, holding her to his chest.

“Can she come to my place some nights?” He buried his face against her, and his voice wavered as he said, “I’ll miss her when she's not with me.”

He was talking about joint custody, and I didn’t have a problem with that. But it brought up an idea I’d been meaning to talk to him about.

“That’s fine. Tippy is as much your cat as mine, but remember, you’d have to feed her and clean out her litter tray.” We’d been taking turns to do Tippy’s food and the cleaning. Vinnie hated the latter, but that was part of being a pet owner: dealing with poop.

He made a face. “The poop, Daddy. I don’t like it. Maybe she should stay here.”

I put my coffee cup on the nightstand. “So even though you love Tippy, you want me to look after her?”

“No, but I have a thing about poop.” His ashen face and how he was clawing at his scalp told me he wasn’t exaggerating.

“No one likes poop, but how about we buy a self-cleaning litter box? That will make it easier for you to deal with.”

---