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Kitty chuckles. “This is why other people’s pets are great. You can tell them all your woes, and as long as you give them pets and treats, they’ll listen. Not great with the actual advice, but cathartic nonetheless.”
“Mmm. That’s a good point.”
“Tabbies are particularly good listeners and exceptionally cuddly,” Kitty says.
“What about dogs? Do they count?”
“Oh yes, definitely. Pugs and bullies are the best. A little snorty and drooly, but the snuggles make it worth it.”
“I hope I wasn’t snorty and drooly when I was all hopped up on those antihistamines.” This conversation I like better. Not me going down a rabbit hole of guilt I can’t get out of.
That earns me a chuckle, and I find I like that sound, a lot. “You don’t snore, but you do talk in your sleep.”
I let the headrest do its job and close my eyes. “I hope I didn’t say anything incriminating.”
“It sounds like you were giving a player a pep talk.” The repetitive tick, tick, tick tells me that she’s signaling to turn or change lanes.
I crack a lid and note that we’re getting on the freeway. At least it won’t be too busy at this time of night. “I do that a lot, dream about plays.”
“I dream about talking to cats.”
I laugh and then yawn.
The next time I open my eyes it’s because we’ve arrived, and Kitty is waking me up. I’m groggy on the elevator ride up to the apartment.
“You’re cool with dogs, right?” I ask when we reach my floor.
“I’m more used to medium-size ones, but yes, I’m cool with dogs.”
“Wilfred is big but very friendly.” Except sometimes when he’s on a leash and he sees a bird. For whatever reason, birds get him ramped up. And kids on skateboards. “He’s more likely to lick you to death than anything else.”
“Death by licking?” Her eyebrows rise, and her gaze goes to my mouth for a second before she looks away and her face flushes.
And suddenly I have a very lurid image in my head that has absolutely nothing to do with my dog.
Kitty chews on her bottom lip while her entire face turns bright red. I keep my mouth shut and open the door, shuffling her behind me as Wilfred comes bounding down the hall. As soon as he reaches me, he shoves his nose into my crotch. “Dude, no thanks.”
He backs up and plunks his butt on the floor, tail wagging so hard it’s almost a blur.
“Wilfred, meet Kitty.”
His tail thumps on the ground and he looks from me to her and back again, like he’s waiting for permission to say a proper hello.
She holds out a hand and steps up beside me. Wilfred gives her a cursory sniff, then nudges her hand, looking for pets. “He is so sweet.”
“Until he tries to sit in your lap or steal your dinner off your plate,” I say.
She scratches behind his ear, but her gaze moves to me. “You should probably lie down.”
“I should feed Wilfred first.”
“I’ll take care of Wilfred. You’re slow blinking and using the wall to prop yourself up. If you pass out, I might be able to soften your fall, but I’d prefer if we don’t add sprained body parts, yours or mine, to the list of things that have gone wrong today.”
“That’s a very good point. I’ll show you the spare room?”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
Wilfred trots along beside me as I guide Kitty down the hall. The spare room gets used occasionally when friends come to town or my dad visits. He’s usually here once in the summer and during the holidays. Now that I’m working for the NHL, there might be opportunities for me to go out his way more often, even if the visits are brief.
“I’m just down there.” I point to the door at the end of the hall, then the one across from us. “And the bathroom is just there. I’ll leave you a toothbrush. But you don’t have to stay. If you’d rather grab an Uber, I would totally understand and reimburse you. I don’t want this to be awkward for you.”
“I’ll feel better knowing that if anything happens, I’m here to help. Unless you’d prefer I go home.” She chews her bottom lip nervously.
I’m guessing this need to make sure I’m okay has something to do with what happened to her dad. “I trust you, Kitty.”
“Okay. That’s good.” She gives me a shy smile.
“Wilfred sleeps in my room, so you don’t have to worry about him bugging you.” He’s leaning against my leg, tail wagging, whining quietly. He has a dog bed in my room, but half the time I wake up with his head on the pillow beside me. I shouldn’t let him get away with it as much as I do, but when he gives me his puppy-dog eyes, it’s hard to say no. Also, I don’t have a girlfriend, so there really isn’t a reason to kick him out of bed, apart from his having bad breath, anyway.
