I gathered my Santa gear from the passenger seat and headed inside, already thinking about how I could make the auction donation special for whoever won it. After all, Santa always delivered, even when it wasn't Christmas Eve.
3
DAKOTA
It had been a long and lonely few weeks in this new town. I’d been juggling a new job, new apartment, no friends, and definitely no Daddy. The walls of my place echoed with an emptiness each night that was almost as loud as the emptiness in my tummy when I tried to sleep.
Exhaustion was winning out, and I was getting a few restless hours of sleep each night, but it wasn’t enough. I had brain fog from it, making work and all other aspects of my life more difficult. At least it was getting better, or better-ish.
If I couldn’t have milk, I needed a furry friend to keep me company. At least that was my justification for scrolling through pictures of adorable pets time and time again. It was also how I found myself at Paws and Whiskers Animal Shelter on a chilly Saturday afternoon with my heart set on finding the perfect cat to love.
My place allowed dogs, with a pet fee. But I always loved cats best. They were assholes in the very best of ways. You always knew where you stood with them, and there was something special about that.
The shelter smelled like a mix of pet food and cinnamon, and it was nice in a bizarre way. Something about the place felt hopeful, like each little meow or bark was a promise of better days ahead. I needed that kind of optimism in my life after all the decidedly not-better days I’d been experiencing.
"First time adopting?" A woman with bright red hair and a nametag approached me with a clipboard.
I nodded and twisted the sleeve of my sweater between my fingers. "Yeah. I just moved here for work, and my apartment feels too quiet without a cat bestie."
"Well, you've come to the right place." She smiled and handed me a form. "Fill this out and then you can meet some of our feline friends."
The form was pretty standard, so I checked all the boxes that said I was a responsible adult who could take care of another living creature and hoped for the best. Truthfully, I wondered if that was true, especially when I slipped into my Little space and wanted nothing more than to be taken care of myself. But I knew I could be both a responsible adult when needed and a Little boy when it was safe to be.
"All done?" The woman took my form back and scanned it quickly. "Follow me, Mr. Murphy. Our cats are this way." She led me into a large room with cages stacked along the walls. Cats of all colors and sizes lounged inside. Some were sleeping while others watched us with curious eyes.
A few meowed as we passed.
"Take your time." She waved to the wall of options. "All our cats are spayed or neutered and current on their shots. They’ve alsobeen checked by a vet. If you find one you connect with, just let me know."
I slowly wandered down the line of cages, peering in at each furry resident. Some barely looked up from their naps while others came right to the bars and pressed against them, meowing for attention. I stopped to wiggle my fingers at a few, but kept moving, not feeling that special connection yet. And each came with a little story card telling you about their personality.
Then I saw him.
A medium-sized orange tabby with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. He sat in the back of his cage, watching me with curiosity rather than desperation or indifference. When our eyes met, he stood up and then stretched, taking his sweet time before walking to the front of the cage to meet me. I knew instantly he was mine, that we were two kindred spirits.
"Hey there." I pressed my fingers against the bars. “You’re so handsome.”
The cat sniffed my hand and then rubbed his head against my fingers.
"That's Marmalade." A man who worked at the shelter appeared beside me. "He's about two years old. Someone found him wandering around downtown about three weeks ago. No microchip, no collar. He was definitely a pet, though, based on what we’ve seen."
In a world where it was easy to microchip a pet, that angered me. Why would you have a pet and not do the bare minimum?
"Can I hold him?" I clasped my hands together to keep them from reaching out without permission. “I want to see if he likes me.
“Sure thing.” He opened the cage and scooped up Marmalade. The bigger shock was that the cat allowed himself to be picked up and transferred to my arms. He settled against my chest and looked up at me with those amazing green eyes.
I’d been wrong. He wasn’t mine… I was his.
"Oh." I adjusted my hold and rubbed the top of his head. "Hello there."
Marmalade blinked and then started to purr. The vibration against my chest felt like the most comforting thing in the world.
"I think he likes you." The man had taken a step back but was watching our interaction. “He usually is a bit skittish. They say cats pick their people.”
"I like him too." I stroked his soft fur and he purred louder. "I think he picked me."
"Agreed! Let's go start the adoption paperwork."
