She replied with three words. “On my way.”
He didn’t realize until after hanging up that he had given her next to no useful information. But she was coming, and that’s what mattered.
The cat wasn’t screaming now, just panting, mouth half open, teeth exposed. Would she bite if he touched her? He put out his hand slowly, and when she didn’t react, he pressed his fingers into her lower back. The muscles were tight as he began to gently rub. “It’s going to be okay, Little Mama,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be fine.”
He didn’t stop crooning or rubbing for twenty minutes, not until he heard a car parking in his driveway and released a breath. Harriet had arrived. He stumbled to the front door to let her in. Harriet entered the foyer looking ready to face down a natural disaster.
“The cat’s by the pool,” Gale blurted. “I’m almost positive she’s having contractions.”
“Oh my god, Gale, what’s going on?” But then his words clearly made it to her brain. She blinked. “Wait, did you just say... the... cat?”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I mean, look, I’ve watched some episodes of that show when we’re on the road, what’s its name,Call the Midwife? But that isn’t enough to fly here. This is a full feline situation with Little Mama.”
Her brows, already raised, lifted a fraction more. “Little Mama?”
“I mean, yeah. That’s what I’ve been calling her.” He hooked a hand around the back of his neck. “I mean, I just met her. We’re not exactly on a first-name basis yet.”
“Oh my god.” She pressed her lips together. “Gale, when you called, I thought someone had died.”
“No one died, but—”
Right on cue, the cat let out a yowl that made Gale jump.
“Okay, okay,” Harriet said, rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll go outside and attend to the damsel in distress. And you, good sir, should attend to putting on more clothing before the neighbors start livestreaming.”
Gale glanced down at his bare torso and then back to her face, noticing she wasn’t looking directly at him, her hazel eyes focused on some vague spot over his left shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, okay. And I’ll grab some towels. Should I get a bowl of hot water?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. In movies, there’s always someone carrying a pan of hot water around when a baby is about to be born.”
Harriet shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’m not exactly an expert on birthing cats despite your high expectations of me. Water must be to sterilize something, and we’renotdoing that, I can assure you. Grabbing towels sounds good, though. Do that.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He swallowed.
“Maybe your bad towels,” she clarified, clearly taking the situation in hand.
“Sounds good, back in a second.”
He returned outside in a few minutes, clad in a Regals sweatshirt and a pair of slides.
“I heated these towels in the dryer.”
“You warmed them?” Harriet looked up from her spot, crouched by the cat. “That was thoughtful.”
“All good. What do we do now?”
“We?” She shrugged. “I hate to break it to you, but I think Little Mama’s got this covered. From my very limited knowledge, I think our best role is just moral support and marveling at the miracle of life.”
As if on cue, Little Mama’s eyes opened even wider, and suddenly, there was a tiny, wet bundle on the towel he’d just placed alongside her.
“Whoa,” Gale whispered, feeling both awestruck and slightly nauseated by the orange blob. “Is that... is it supposed to look like that?”
Harriet’s eyes widened a moment. “Amazing,” she breathed.
Fifteen minutes and one more push later, they were the proud godparents of two kittens—both orange, just like their mother.
Gale looked at Harriet, his eyes wide with a mix of wonder and panic. “Will there be more?”
