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I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you take my car? I know a guy who can get this taken care of like that.” I snap my fingers and Prince Francis, who is wrapped around her shoulders, tries to bite them.
“I can’t take your car. Then you have to drive this.” She motions to her defaced vehicle.
“I’ll be fine. Take the Tesla. I’ll get this handled so you don’t have to worry about it.” I take the keys to the Cat-mobile and pass her the ones to my car.
“You’re sure?”
“Paws-itively positive.” I stroke her cheek, and she gives me a weak smile.
“Thank you.” Her chin trembles, a sign she’s on the verge of tears again.
“Anything for you.” I kiss her and pull her in for a hug, wishing I could erase the videos and find a way to help her drown out the noise.
Josh gets out of his sports car, his expression slack with disbelief. “Dude. Why are you driving the cat car?” He gets a load of the graffiti on the passenger side. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah. Oh shit is right.” I got a lot more than just looks from people. Someone threw what was likely an expensive latte at the car, several people flipped me the bird, and someone else tossed a burrito on the windshield. I put the wipers on and ended up smearing guac all over the place; I had to pull over because I couldn’t see. There’s still a chunk of tomato stuck under the wiper blade.
“Is this because of that video?” Josh rubs the back of his neck.
“Yeah. I told Kitty I could get the car fixed. I’m hoping one of the guys can refer me to someone who can make a not-liar out of me.”
“You must really be into her if you’re willing to drive around in this thing. I’m guessing that means she has your Tesla.”
“You’re right on both counts. I feel horrible for her. There are so many freaking people just gobbling this shit up.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. I hate that I’m very, very wrong about everyone forgetting the video. #kittywhispereranimalabuser is the number one trending hashtag today.
“One of the guys will know someone.” He claps me on the shoulder. “And maybe we can find a way to make something good out of this shit situation.”
“You didn’t see her this morning. She looks like someone ripped the head off her favorite stuffed animal. She’s been such a huge source of support for me while I’ve been figuring out all the stuff with my mom. I really hate to see her like this. I just want to make it better, but I don’t know how.” Kitty has been taking Prince Francis to visit my mom at least once a week, if not twice. I’ve been trying to do the same. It’s not a conventional relationship, but some days she has periods of lucidity and we talk about my childhood and Toby. It might be helping her remember I’m me more often. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part. Either way, it’s good for us.
But now Kitty is hurting, and I don’t know what I can do to help make it better.
We head into the arena to meet with Coach Davis and the players. And of course, because a lot of those guys are completely dialed into social media, almost everyone knows about what happened at the park yesterday.
I explain how it went down, and that she tripped and didn’t mean to tackle Wilfred or hit him.
“People are assholes.” Parker shakes his head as he scrolls through the memes—those are new—gifs, and videos that have flooded the internet.
“Don’t I know it,” I grumble.
“Hold on. Have you seen this?” Parker holds his phone two inches from my face.
I push his hand back until the image comes into focus. Then grab it out of his hand. “Holy hell. Is that Brit Sheers? The actress?”
“It sure is. And it looks like she’s defending Kitty.”
I turn the volume up on the video.
“Anyone who follows Kitty Hart knows she has a legitimate heart of gold and wouldn’t hurt a fly. I don’t care what it looks like. That video clip is taken out of context. I dare the person who posted it to put up the whole thing instead of the piece that turns a person who pours her whole heart into taking care of animals into an abuser.”
Brit Sheers often makes somewhat controversial and political statements. But she’s also very involved in several charity organizations and is particularly passionate about animals and speaking out about animal cruelty. She’s the founder of A Home for Honey, a not-for-profit animal shelter that focuses on rehoming abused or neglected pets, or animals with high needs.
Sitting in her lap is Honey, a blond tabby that Brit found in a garbage can on her morning run two years ago. Honey has a rare congenital birth defect that makes it difficult for her to get around and also makes her look like she ran into a wall. She’s adorable, and her social media following is unreal.
