Page 135 of Love ad Lib
This cat looked like it had everything it might need, but it all appeared unused.
Henry opened the crate door and they both stepped back.
Nothing happened.
Libby took a toy and held it out.
‘Here, kitty kitty.’ She looked at Henry. ‘What’s its name?’
His mouth opened. ‘Um…’ he began, his eyes wide as if he’d forgotten its name.
She looked back at the cat, shaking the toy. ‘Here, puss puss, want to play with my—’
‘Pussy!’
She stared at him. ‘What?’
He swallowed. ‘Pussy,’ he repeated.
‘Jack called him “Pussy”?’
He tugged his collar away from his neck. ‘Um, it’s actually “Mr Pussy”.’
‘Oh. Well, I see Jack’s sense of humour extends to his pet,’ she said. ‘Here, Mr Pussy, want to come and play?’
The cat stalked out of the box and swiped the toy from her hand. Instinctively she moved back. It was bloody huge. She’d never seen a cat this size before, or this fluffy. It had long fur in shades of blacks and browns and paws like furry dinner plates with talons. It turned its back on the two of them, lifted its tail and started to produce a size-appropriate poo. Straight onto the white tiled floor.
‘Shit!’ Henry grabbed the cat and attempted to move it towards the litter tray.
It responded by screeching and swiping across the back of his hand, drawing blood.
‘Fuck!’
He dropped Mr Pussy, who finished defecating then leapt to the top of the cat tree, where he sat, licking the blood off his claws and staring at Henry.
Henry stared back, an already blood-stained handkerchief pressed to the back of his hand.
‘Jesus, are you okay?’ Libby asked as she opened drawers and cupboards to find something to clean up the mess.
‘I’m fine. I’m just not sure he likes men.’
‘Well, he must like Jack? What about the ones at the old folks’ home?’
‘Er, there aren’t any. It’s only women.’
‘Maybe he ate the men?’
‘What?’ Henry looked completely flustered.
‘It’s a joke! Look, I think it’s understandable for Mr Pussy to be scared of new people. I’m sure he’ll get used to us soon enough.’
Mr Pussy stayedat the top of the cat tree as Libby unpacked. Jack’s flat was like a hotel and she alternated between feeling terribly grown-up and scared to touch anything in case she left fingerprints behind. How the flat remained so immaculate with a cat that large and hairy was a mystery to her. She would need to make sure he was brushed every day.
‘Does Mr Pussy have a grooming kit?’ she called out from the bedroom.
‘Yes, he does. Hang on.’ Henry returned with a large white tin containing brushes, clippers, scissors and tools she couldn’t name.
‘Are these brand new? I can’t see a single hair.’
