Page 104 of Reply All
Meoooooowww.
“Ginger, Mommy and Daddy are trying to sleep. It’s still early. I’ll feed you in a bit.”
If Ginger could snort, she would. She doesn’t understand many of the sounds the humans make, but shedoesknow “Mommy” and “Daddy.” These two humans call themselves herpawrents, but it’s clear over the years that she’s been the one taking care of them. First, Human #1—or Bridget, as Human #2 calls her. Then, about a year ago, she started taking care of Human #2, too. Will, she thinks his name is.
Ginger sits patiently for about forty-five seconds by Will before head butting him, nipping softly at his ear with her sharp teeth.
Meeeeoooowww.
With another groan, he presses a kiss to Bridget’s bare shoulder before sitting up. He glares at Ginger, but scratches the back of her ears in the way that makes her lean into his hand and her entire body purr.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll feed you now even though breakfast time isn’t for…” He checks the odd contraption connected to a cable on the nightstand her humans seem to be glued to several times a day. “Your breakfast isn’t even due for another hour!” he whisper-yells.
Ginger watches the way he begins to reconsider feeding her early, and doesn’t like it one bit. She doesn’t like it at all. In fact, she can’t believe she ever considered promoting him to Human #1 at one point.
Ridiculous.
Ginger has one more tool in her tool box to convince him, though, so she goes for it: she widens her eyes and looks up at Will with a softmeowbefore rubbing her entire body, tail in the air, against him. Now all she has to do is throw herself in his lap and?—
His goofy smile is immediate. “Alright, you little dictator. Breakfast it is.”
Will scoops her up in his arms and carries her to the kitchen counter, even if she doesn’t need the help—she’s not complaining, though.
Based on the way the tone of his voice and demeanor change—higher pitched than normal, more cuddles and ear rubs, something she’s heard Bridget call “baby talk”—Ginger knows that she hasn’t just succeeded in getting her breakfast delivered to her an hour early or in hitching a ride to the kitchen counter. Nope, she knows she’s gotten Will to give her a couple of treats after she finishes her wet food, too.
Bridget wakes and sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes. “Will? Are you feeding the cat? Do you need my help?”
“Go back to bed, baby,” Will whispers before going over to place a peck on her lips. “You need to rest before the movers get here. Big changes are ahead.”
* * *
Ginger rollscomfortably onto her back, paws in the air. She lets the warmth of the sun that comes in from the window sink deep through her layers of fur.
It’s her special time. Part of her new daily routine. Right after breakfast, she goes into the living room to sleep on that one strong ray of sunshine that makes its way onto the one specific spot every day.
Ginger was definitely not a fan of this new place when they first moved in—it was so big, it terrified her sometimes (though she’d never admit it out loud even if she could speak).
She’s often heard Will say things she didn’t understand about her, like that maybe Ginger had agoraphobia after living in such a small space for so long, and “it’s good we moved out of New York. More space for all of us.”—but now she’s a fan. She no longer needs to constantly see how disgustingly in love the humans are with each other.
The way Will struggles to not have at least one inch of his skin touching Bridget at all times. The way she constantly turns red and grins wildly whenever he looks at her a certain way or says the right thing. Things that Ginger has heard them use with her sometimes—love—but she doesn’t go crazy over it like they do over each other. Mostly, she’s glad she can walk away from their mating rituals when they happen. Before, she could only turn away and go back to sleep. Now, she can go downstairs and stare at the family of squirrels in the backyard. Plot their demise. The squirrels’ demise, that is.
“Will? Do you have everything?” Ginger hears Bridget ask. Her voice is an octave higher than it usually is, anxiety dripping from every word.
Curious, Ginger turns onto her side to watch their interaction through the doorway.
Will slings a backpack over his shoulders before taking her by the hips, pulling her tight against him. He presses his lips against Bridget and she moans, arms looping behind his neck as she inhales deeply. As if trying to memorize his scent.
Ginger almost wishes she had a hairball she could throw up right now.
She likes that herpawrents care about each other, butjeez.
“Yes, Bridge.” He smiles against her mouth while they both attempt to regulate their breathing.
“Lunch? Books? Notebooks and pens?”
“Check. Check. Check and check.”
Bridget blushes and tries to look away, but he won’t let her. Instead, he grabs her by the chin and kisses her long and hard once more.
