Page 7 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
I’m humming along to a Taylor Swift heartbreak song—because apparently that’s who I am now—when suddenly something catches my eye. Right in the middle of the road.
A bag?
No. Oh no.
It’s a lump.
A furry lump.
Holy shit, that’s a cat. And it’s not moving.
I slam on my brakes, tires screeching the way I do when watching a horror movie and come to an abrupt halt. Thank God this is Bumfuck, Nowhere, and the only other soulsaround are probably cows and the occasional deer. No danger of someone rear-ending me.
I throw the car into park and launch myself out like a woman in a made-for-TV movie. My brain’s already spiraling.
What if it’s dead?
Wait—lone woman being stopped in the middle of nowhere … isn’t this how horror movies start? I check the bushes at the side of the road as if the branches will spell out “Danger hiding here” with some cute little arrows pointing to the masked killer.
Then again, I’ve survived a cheating fiancé, toxic relatives, and a dramatic hair transformation. If I get taken out by a fake cat trap on a rural road, at least my funeral portrait will look amazing.
“Hey, sweetie,” I coo in a high-pitched voice that I hope signals that I come in peace and cautiously move closer to the black-furred animal.
What if it’s not a cat, after all?
What if it has rabies?
The closer I get, the more my heart races until I hear a soft, miserablemeow.
I gasp, my pulse racing; first, because I’m relieved it’s actually a cat and not a small bear with its mother waiting nearby. Being mauled to death right now would put a serious damper on my romanticizing life plans. Second, because there’s blood everywhere and soft, agonized breaths make adrenaline kick in, and I spur into action.
“Oh no, sweetie.” I immediately take off my jacket and put it over the cat, grimacing when it makes a pained sound. “I’m sorry, cutie pie, but I have to move you.” My eyes scan the area for more cats, but it seems this little animal was all alone.
I bite my lip to refrain from crying as I pick it up to agonizing meows, carrying it to my passenger cradled to me as I would hold a baby, softly talking to it and stroking its head.
My heart beats in my chest like it’s about to chisel a hole into my ribcage as I search for the closest vet office on my phone. Then I set the GPS to lead me there on the quickest route.
“You’ll be all right,” I continue cooing at the cat softly, reaching over to gently stroke its head as I turn the key in the ignition. “Stay with me. We’re going to find someone who can help you.”
Tears spring into my eyes as the little creature, despite being weak with pain and shaking in agony, purrs under my fingertips.
“I’m going to save you,” I promise her and clear my throat, clogged by emotion. “Don’t even think about dying on me, sweetie.”
I repeat it. Like a mantra. Though its breaths turn weaker and weaker, and the purring stops as she mobilizes her strength to survive.
Trees and fields fly past me as I follow my navigations directions to the closest veterinarian.
When I glance over, I catch it staring at me with wide yellow eyes as if saying, “It’s okay. Thank you for trying.”
Fuck no. She can’t die on me. Ten more minutes to the vet—I decide to make it in five. A life’s at stake, and if ambulances cannot give a shit about speed limits, I shouldn’t either.
“Fuck, you’ve got to make it, sweetie pie.” Another weak meow, and I notice her moving under my hand.
I can’t check on it, though, because I am breaking every speed limit on these empty streets as I attempt to save the cat’s life and try to keep mine. Suddenly, it tries to climb into my lap. And it takes every ounce of strength to not fucking lose it and break down while speeding down these curvy roads.
“No, no, sweetie,” I glance down but let’s be real, there’s no way I’m going to stop it. The small creature clumsily makes her way over the center console and climbs into my lap, curling her tiny body into itself until she all but disappears in my shirt. She'scovering my favorite pants in blood, but I don't care about that right now.
“Don’t cry, Nic,” I mutter to myself and softly stroke the cat’s soft head. It’s the only thing I could see that wasn't covered in blood.
