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I mean, I get that Bambi eventually meets the doe and they hook up. But the big takeaway for me was, Why is everyone abandoning their best friends for a random female?
But some of us aren’t cut out for love like that.
Shortly after lunch, when things are quiet, I hear a bunch of oohs and aahs coming from the lobby, audible all the way to my office.
I head up front. Ensley is kneeling in front of a cardboard box that has apparently been brought in by a kid who can’t be over twelve.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A stray mom and her kittens,” Ensley says. She turns her gaze toward me, and the pure love there makes my heart skitter. “Just look at them.”
I peer into the box. A scrawny young female cat, barely a year old, blinks up at us as three gray kittens poke around her belly. They are very tiny, three weeks old at best.
The boy, a hank of hair falling over his eyes, says, “She’s been living in a drainpipe where me and my friends hang out. We bring her food. But when she had the babies, I figured I’d better do something.”
“You did the right thing,” Ensley says. “We’ll take care of them.”
“Mom said I couldn’t keep them,” he says. “I tried.”
“We understand,” I say.
The boy looks down at the box one more time, then heads out to where his bike is lying on the sidewalk.
“What do we do with them?” Ensley asks.
I pick one up. It’s warm with a fat belly. They aren’t in terrible shape, at least. “We’ll give them an exam. Check out the mother. She probably needs shots.”
Ensley nods. “They’re so soft.” She runs her hands along the babies’ backs.
I tuck the kitten against her mother. “I can take these to the back.”
I’m about to lean down to pick up the box when a woman with two yappy Chihuahuas opens the door. They quickly spot the box and dash to the ends of their leashes, climbing the side to peer in.
The mama cat hisses and jumps out of the box. She heads straight out the open door.
“Oh no!” Ensley cries. She dashes out after the cat.
“Whoa, there,” I say, grabbing the leashes of the dogs and pulling them back.
“I’m so sorry!” cries the woman. “I had no idea.”
I pick up the box and set it behind the counter on Ensley’s desk. “There’s no reason you would’ve known. Don’t worry about it in the least. If you have a seat, we’ll get you checked in.”
The woman takes the Chihuahuas off to the side where a vinyl bench fills the wall.
I check on the kittens. They squirm around, but they don’t seem to be too distraught by the sudden noise and the abrupt departure of their mother.
“I’ll check on Ensley and see if she got the cat,” I tell the woman. “We’ll be right back.”
“So sorry,” the woman says, but I head out the door.
“Ensley?” I glance around the parking lot. I wonder how far away the cat got.
I walk to the road, glancing each direction. There are some pedestrians, but no Ensley.
I head back to the building. “Ensley? Where are you?”
No answer. I pause to listen. Between the swish of the passing cars, I hear the yowl of an unhappy cat.
