Chapter Four
Surprisingly, I do manage to sleep well. Though I did have a weird dream that I was being wrapped in strong muscly arms. Given that I woke up to the furball sharing my pillow and licking my nose, I guess it could have been a hell of a lot worse. I leave the mini-monster in my bed while I get up and get ready, opting for a white lace off the shoulder sundress which I pair up with my favorite Vans and yellow cardigan just in case there’s a chill.
I’m flying down the stairs, ready to make myself some breakfast, when I stop short of the kitchen and remember what happened last night. Ah crap.
I don’t want to deal with that mess at all. But, living alone and being single means that if I don’t do it now, I’ll just have to face it after work when I’m too tired and hungry. So here goes nothing.
I swing the door open, take a deep breath and prepare for…a completely spotless kitchen? Even the dishes I left on the side last night have vanished, and my kitchen is gleaming brighter than it's ever been.
“What the hell?!” I exclaim, completely flummoxed.
I’m used to weird shit happening around me, but never before have the dishes done themselves. It feels like real Fantasia kind of shit going down. Then something brushes against the back of my leg and I let out a strangled scream as my heart leaps into my throat.
“Fuck!” I jump about a foot in the air and then feel stupid; it’s just the new houseguest. Goddamn it. When my heart rate returns to normal, I feed the damn thing and then sort myself out.
Over breakfast, I decide that I’ll take him to the animal rescue place; hopefully I’ll get him identified, they can check to see if he’s microchipped or a missing pet or whatever, and then we can go from there. I scoop up the little furball and head out, grabbing my bag, keys and that book off the side table. I was too distracted last night to read any more, but hopefully I can get back to it today. It really is good.
But first: the shelter.
The drive over is uneventful, my new friend curled up again on the seat beside me. He grumbles as we approach the shelter building and I swear it’s like he knows where we’re headed.
“I promise I’m not going to leave you here,” I whisper to him, and he instantly settles.
“Hi! Welcome to Silver Springs Animal Shelter,” a friendly, but tired, voice calls to me. “How can I help you today?”
“Hey, so this little guy wandered into my shop yesterday. No tag or collar. I kept him all day but no-one came in to claim him. I wondered if you could scan him for a chip, see if he’s lost or whatever...maybe tell me what he is?” I ramble, slightly nervous.
Shelters make me nervous. They’re not full of good energy. The sadness and desperation of the inhabitants presses down on me in a crushing weight. My small furry friend whimpers, like he can feel it too, and I absentmindedly stroke him. Petting him calms me somewhat.
“Absolutely! I’ll just grab the handheld scanner, be right back!” The lady behind the counter, wearing a name badge that reads Charlotte, beams at me before disappearing behind a door marked ‘staff only’. From the brief glance I get through that door, I see a lot of empty cages out back—which is a relief. I’m so glad that Silver Springs isn’t overrun with unwanted strays. If I hadn’t come in here with an animal I just promised not to leave behind, I would find myself leaving with at least one new addition, I’m sure. I’d probably try to take everything they have here, knowing me.
“Got it!” Charlotte smiles as she reenters the waiting area. “Let’s have a look shall we?”
I try to place the creature on the counter for her to scan him more easily, but he clings to me—sharp little claws digging into my favorite pale yellow cardigan.
“It’s fine,” she says, shooting me an apologetic smile as fabric tears. “We’re used to this. You just hold him and I’ll get him from here.” She waves the scanner around and quickly checks him over, then her bright smile slips somewhat.
“Oh, no chip,” she tells me sadly.
“What happens now then?” I ask, panicked.
“Well, you can leave him here with us…” I’m already shaking my head as soon as she begins to speak.
“Absolutely not.”
“Or you can take him with you, but leave your details on file in case anyone comes in looking for a stray matching his description. We can take some photos of him too, to add to our database, if you don’t mind. Oh and we’ll have to give him some shots—for safety.”
“Let’s go with that option,” I decide hastily. A promise is a promise; I’m not leaving him here in this sad, lonely place.
This time the furball lets me place him on the counter and I swear, when she takes out her camera, he actually smiles for his pictures. Tart.
Damn, I need to get some more sleep, I tell myself, I’m going crazy.
“All done. If you could just fill out these forms for me…” I take the forms and quickly complete them with my personal details. While I’m doing that, she gives him his shots. I know, because he growls and she yelps.
Once she’s stemmed the bleeding from her finger (really, it was just a scratch), I scoop up my new pet and turn for the door.
“Hey,” I turn and call out at the last minute. “What breed is he?”
“Beats me. Definitely a mongrel of some sort. Looks wild to me.” She throws an amused glance at the bundle in my arms, and I swear he grins again.
Mongrel means it’s a dog, right? Don’t they use a different term for cats? I don’t want to look stupid by asking. Maybe Calluna at Beasties Besties might know. Looks like I will be needing those supplies after all.
Chapter Five
I pull up outside the pet shop and decide to take the furball in with me. Who leaves dogs in cars these days anyway? Actually, he really needs a name, I think. Hmmm. I look at him, his adorable oversized bat-like ears, and decide that Batfink is a perfect fit. Happy, I jump out of my truck, remove my ripped cardigan, which I toss onto the seat, and then head inside. On the way in, I grab a basket and randomly start chucking stuff in one handed, while I try to carry Batfink. Without a leash, I can’t put him on the floor, and I’m not too sure about letting him sit in the basket.
Only, maybe it was a bad idea to bring him in here; all the smells must be driving him wild because he scrambles out of my arms and drops elegantly to the floor, before tearing off out of sight. For something so small, damn is he fast!
“Shit!” I mutter.
I take off after him, abandoning the basket on the floor. I find him several aisles later, on top of the freezers containing the raw feeds. Gross. I don’t think I can do it, but when I try to lift Batfink away, he scratches his paws on the glass and whines. So what do I do? I give in, because I’m a sucker, and because he’s making a scene and I’m dying of embarrassment.
I pick Batfink up so that I’m staring him right in the eye and tell him firmly, “Behave. I’ll get you the food you want,” which of course immediately makes him revert to being an angel. Stubborn little git.
“Looks like he knows what he wants,” a voice calls from behind me as I struggle to keep hold of the frantic furball.