For a moment, he entertained the cowardly thought of retreating inside, shutting the door, and pretending he’d never seen any of this. That abandoned cereal bowl beckoned—a simple, sweet, and uncomplicated world just steps away.
But as he met the cat’s pleading green eyes, he knew he couldn’t leave her alone in this vulnerable moment, even if he had no clue how to help. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and began to pace.Come on, come on.He had to figure this out somehow.
His sister was an expert, right? He hit speed dial.
“Hey. I need you.”
“What’s wrong?” Brooke’s voice was groggy. A baby fussed in the background. “It’s sevena.m., Gale, and I’ve been up most of the night. Someone better be dying.”
“So there’s this cat on my deck and she’s about to have babies and I thought since you just had Benji—”
“Are you seriously calling me because you think having a human baby makes me qualified to help deliver kittens?”
“I mean... birth is birth, right? You’ve got recent experience. More than me at least.”
“Oh. My. God. Stop. Just stop.” She broke off into exhausted laughter. “You realize I had one baby, not a whole litter? With doctors? And drugs? Wonderful, wonderful drugs?”
“Yeah, but you know about all the... stuff. The pushing and breathing and—”
“Did you just compare my thirty-eight hours of labor to an animal giving birth on your deck?”
The cat let out another unholy screech. Gale held the phone closer. “Listen to that! She needs help!”
“I hear. And I’m telling you to call the very nice people whoactually deal with these things. The humane society. A vet. Anyone but your sleep-deprived sister.”
“But you’re so good with all the... you know. The birthing stuff.”
Benji’s crying grew more insistent. “Oh god, he’s doing that thing where he turns purple. I have to—”
“What if I FaceTime you and you just talk me through it?”
“Brother. I say this with all the affection in the world—I’m hanging up. I am not going to remote-coach you through cat labor.”
“But—”
“No. Hard no. Absolutely not. Call the experts.” A small crash in the background. “Shit, he’s gotten hold of the burp cloth. How does he grab stuff so well? He isn’t even close to crawling yet!”
“Please? I’ll babysit Benji!”
Dead silence. Then hysterical laughter. “You? The guy who tried to swaddle his nephew in a jersey?”
“That was one time! And he looked cute!”
“He looked like a tiny prisoner! Call. The. Professionals.” More crying. “I mean it. I have to go feed your nephew before he figures out how to hot-wire a car or something. Love you!”
“But—”
The line went dead. He looked back at the cat, who somehow managed to look even more unimpressed than before.
“Don’t judge me,” he muttered. “I tried.”
Now what?
Suddenly, a lifeline appeared in Gale’s panicked mind: Harriet. She had a cat—or at least did a decade ago—and seemed to know a lot about most things. Yes, she’d be the perfect person to call.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Harriet! Oh man, so glad you picked up. Listen, I’ve got a serious situation unfolding here. Any chance you can come over? Please? I’m way out of my depth.”
