Page 62 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

“I know so. I’ll talk to you later after I talk to Kitty. And eat some peas, okay? They count as a green vegetable.”

She laughed. “Got it. Later.”

I refilled Lucky’s feeder and put a second serving of his wet mousse in his bowl.

And then I pulled his catnip mouse out of the toilet, his surest sign of displeasure other shredding the roll of toilet paper. I dried off the mouse, futilely replaced the TP and faced myself in the mirror.

I looked more tired than usual, and I knew very well why—and it wasn’t just because I’d been up all night with Kitty for very good reasons.

I knew I couldn’t run from my family forever. Dad was getting older. He’d mentioned the last time I saw him that he was beginning to consider his exit strategy for retirement and he really needed to know my plans so he could leave the constituents in a good place, knowing their leadership structure was intact.

Assuming they wanted yet another Hauser in office, but all signs pointed to the fact that they did.

He understood I loved my job and it was a field I was badly needed in, considering the current vet staffing shortage. But he assumed I’d take a leave of absence for however long and just…go be the mayor of Clintondale, the minuscule town I’d left right after high school. It wasn’t more than a few hours from where I’d settled but that wasn’t the point.

I wanted to stay here. I had no interest in being mayor.

So just tell him already.

Letting him and my mom down wasn’t easy. They were all about the family’s legacy in town. I appreciated that and respected it. It just wasn’t for me.

I was building my legacy somewhere else. And maybe Kitty would be a part of my life, too. I was already hoping she would.

And you call Emma impulsive.

The clinic texted me and let me know I was needed right away. Animal control had just been alerted of a hoarding case in the nearby small town of Turnbull. They were bringing in cats—and a few dogs—by the bucketload.

Thorny Paw Clinic was already on the search for fosters to take care of some of the animals in better shape, and they were coordinating efforts with Kitten Around Rescue Clinic to take on some of the worst cases. Some had respiratory and eye issues and many were malnourished.

So it was basically all hands on deck—and during Thanksgiving week, a time when resources were even more strained than they usually were. Some of the staff had planned vacation time and of course, at this time of year, kids were sick at home, which meant still others were unavoidably out.

I could’ve really used Kitty’s sandwich. And Kitty, just for five minutes, to make me smile in that way only she could.

“Okay, slugger, I’m off again. I’m not going to say be good because I won’t waste my breath.” I picked up Lucky long enough to kiss his furry cheek before sitting him down on the rug with my slipper. I knew better than to push my luck by taking it away from him when he was already in a mood. “You’re set for both wet and dry food. Hopefully I’ll be back later tonight.”

I’d slept at the clinic before a few times and it royally sucked.

Just in case, I turned on the TV in the living room and pulled up the YouTube video of colorful fish swimming around in a giant tank. Lucky instantly climbed up on the back of the sofa and plopped down to enjoy the show from his preferred vantage point.

I headed back to work and walked into the waiting room to the usual chaos of a vet clinic during a holiday week. A bird was squawking frantically and flapping its wings from its perch on a high shelf and Alice was doing her best to talk him down.

Funnily enough, the bird wasn’t even a patient. It appeared to be a pigeon that had flown in from outside.

Ignoring the melee, I stopped by the desk to see if I had any messages and stared as Francine, one of the techs who was currently covering the phones while Alice attempted bird control, handed over what appeared to be a footlong sub.

Wrapped in Christmas paper festooned with dancing cats, no less.

“One of your admirers dropped off a gift. She ran off before I could get her name. Skittish much?”

There was a Christmas-style name tag on the outside of the paper addressed to me and the “from” line simply contained a crudely drawn paw print.

I swallowed hard, stupidly touched. “You just don’t know her,” I said vaguely, although yeah, probably, I could see calling her skittish at times.

At other times she was as relaxed as anyone else.

Whatever she was, she was perfectly made for me. I didn’t know how or why or if maybe we’d just been sucked into some weird vortex.

All I knew was that I was so fucking grateful I’d been the admin that night at Kitten Around when she’d posted her ad.

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