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With all the things put in place to help Tabitha, she’s doing much better, and it gives Miles some assurance that he made the right decision. Change is never easy, but without it we can’t move forward.
chapter twenty-four
AN ABSOLUTE CAT-ASTROPHE
Kitty
Over the weeks that follow, Miles and I finish cleaning out his mother’s house. More than once we drop everything and vacate the house because Miles has a reaction. They haven’t been as severe as the first one, but that might be because as soon as he sneezes or gets a tickle in his throat, we’re out the door. He’s been for more tests, and they’ve ruled out a lot of things, but they still haven’t gotten to the root of the cause. So he has yet another scratch test appointment in a couple of weeks.
And last week I hired a part-time helper. It was hard at first to bring on someone new, change being something I don’t usually invite. I’ve been a lone cat for the past three years, running everything on my own, but Miles and Kat are right: I needed an extra set of hands to make it easier to juggle my schedule and my personal life.
So I hire Fancy Summers, a vet tech student at the local college. She has years of shelter volunteer experience, and her family has a farm with half a dozen barn cats, three goats, two dogs, and an owl. I have her trained in no time. And she’s incredibly organized, which has been amazing. It also means that on weekends, which is when I stack her hours, I can stay at Miles’s place without worrying about having to get back to town the following morning.
It’s Saturday, and Miles had to duck out early to meet up with Parker and Austin before practice. His team has a game tomorrow night, so they’re going to go through the other team’s recent stats. The stress he was feeling at the beginning of the season has begun to wane, particularly since he’s organically become a bit of a mentor for Parker and Austin.
When my dad was alive, I would sometimes sit and watch hockey with him. Usually I’d be reading a book at the same time, or doing mindless homework that didn’t require a lot of attention. Now I find myself enthralled, listening intently as Miles nerds out about player and team stats. When he’s done, I’ll attack him with my lips, and other body parts.
This morning he left a note on his pillow—which Wilfred drooled on—letting me know that he’ll be home between ten and eleven. I roll out of bed at eight and pad to the kitchen, Wilfred and Prince Francis trotting after me.
Two weeks ago, I brought Prince Francis with me for a sleepover. We wanted to see if he and Wilfred could be friends. And also make sure he wouldn’t send Miles back to the hospital. I was nervous that Wilfred might want to use Prince Francis as a chew toy, but it turns out all my worry was for nothing.
Wilfred didn’t even bark once. All it took was fifteen minutes and one nose swat for them to decide they would be better friends than enemies. Since then, they’ve become the best of friends. Unless Wilfred tries to eat Prince Francis’s food—then he gets a bop on the nose to remind him that he’s not the king of the castle when Prince Francis is around.
I feed them and make myself toast and coffee. They sit side by side at my right, Wilfred’s tail wagging while he rests his chin on my leg and gives me his puppy-dog eyes. Prince Francis licks between his toe beans.
When Wilfred realizes I don’t plan to share my toast, he trots off and returns a minute later with his leash. He drops it at my feet.
“Would you two like to go for a walk in the park?”
Wilfred barks once and does a quick spin. Then he picks up the leash again and drops it in my lap. I laugh and scratch behind his ear. “That’s a yes then, huh, Wilfred? Let me get ready and we’ll go.”
Winter is closing in, bringing with it cooler temperatures, so I dress Prince Francis in a thick sweater before I put on his harness. It’s not his favorite clothing combination, but he loves the walks in the park, so he’ll suffer through it. I put on my winter jacket, clip Wilfred’s leash to his collar, snap a quick pic of the two of them, and post it on social media, and then we’re off to the elevators.
We stop a few times on the descent. One woman does a double take when she sees Prince Francis, then whispers something I don’t catch to her boyfriend. They giggle. I ignore them. I’m used to the curious looks and whispers I get when people realize that I’m walking not only a dog but also a cat.
