Page 10 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t have the space? The finances?” I frowned as the silence grew heavy. “Kitty?”

She sighed. “I lost my boy earlier in the year. I’m not ready to adopt another cat. I’m—I’m just focused on keeping Princess as happy as possible.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I murmured.

She didn’t reply for a moment or two.

“What about her mama?”

“Back to me again, huh? What about her mama?”

“Areyouas happy as possible?”

She laughed again but the sound held no joy. “I’m still working on that. So when can you drop off Lucky?”

I actually drew back the phone to stare at it. This woman was a Rubik’s Cube where none of the cubes locked together the same way twice. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’ve seen Lucky. He’s cute. Actually, he kind of reminds me of…” She huffed out a breath. “My Muffintop.”

“Muffintop?”

“Yeah. Shut up. My dad named him when he gave him to me.”

“And you kept the name?”

“It was the only way the word didn’t hurt anymore. Eventually, I didn’t hear my dad saying that in my head any longer and just associated it with the cat I loved.”

“Wait. Your dad named him Muffintop as an insult?”

“No, not exactly. I mean, kind of, but he said it affectionately. I’ve always carried extra weight.” She explained it as if this made all the sense in the world.

It made no sense.

“Your dad made fun of you for your weight, then gave you a cat as a reminder of how he’d hurt you?”

“Yes. No. He’d called me that since I was little. Then it just stuck. You know how girls have that little roll of fat above their waist? Mine wasn’t so little.” She laughed softly. “Guess you won’t be bringing by Lucky now, huh?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Because your dad sounds like a thoughtless asshole?”

She whistled. “Wow, maybe you’re a psychologist instead. You figured out in ten minutes what took me nearly twenty years and therapy to understand, though I stopped going a while ago. Bravo, sir.”

I didn’t know what to say. She’d left me speechless not for the first time.

And never for the same reason twice.

“Look, you don’t have to come over. It’s fine.”

“So you’ll just respond to #226 instead? Fuck no. I’m coming. When do you want me?”

Okay, now I was sounding desperate—which I was, but not because I was horny. Some part of me needed to make up for the wrongs of another man, one who’d made mistakes that shouldn’t have been my concern. But they were.

None of this made sense.

Even Lucky had abandoned the couch to climb up on the arm of my chair to stare me down as if he was concerned for my welfare.

To be honest, he gave me that stare often, usually when I came home smelling of other cats. And dogs. And bunnies. And whatever animals happened to cross my exam table.

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