A soft scratching at my door pulled me from my woeful funk. “Paisley?” I called as I pushed myself to my feet and padded over to the door. I knew for a fact Octo-Cat was shut in his room, so it had to be our other furry roommate. I hadn’t seen Paisley much that day, but her special brand of optimistic enthusiasm was just what I needed to start feeling better so I could get back to work.
But no, Nan’s sweet little dog must have gone with her on errands, because Paisley wasn’t the one waiting outside my door. It wasn’t Octo-Cat, either. My actual visitors were far, far worse.
“I don’t like it when she assumes we are a flea-ridden dog!” Jilliane said by way of hello. I was just about to defend Paisley’s good, flee-free name when Jacques chimed in with, “I don’t like when she closes doors and impedes our access. This is supposed to be our house now.”
I bit back a sigh. Step or not, these sphynxes were my cat kids now. I had to make an effort to improve our relationship, no matter how much their complaints grated on me.
So I clasped my hands together and forced a smile. “Jacques and Jillianne, what can I do for you?”
“I don’t like being bored,” Jacques said with a groan.
“I don’t like being cold,” his sister added, and on they went with their litany of complaints.
“I don’t like being hungry.”
“I don’t like how this place smells.”
“I don’t like how—”
“Okay, enough! What do you even actually like? Can we focus on that for a second please? I’m happy to help you, but you need to be a bit more specific—and also a bit nicer to me, please. We’re family now, got it?”
The two cats sat in unified silence, staring up at me with large unblinking eyes. I stared right back, unsure exactly what game we were playing but also knowing I couldn’t afford to lose.
After at least two tense minutes, they turned tail and jogged back down the stairs.
“I don’t like her,” they agreed in perfect sync. Well, wasn’t that just perfect?
I waited to make sure they had gotten to wherever they were going, then descended the stairs myself. I was already way behind on my schedule, thanks to my minor breakdown. I really needed to get back on track. First I would—
“Angelaaaaaa!” my cat called as I passed his bedroom door. Oh, good gravy. More cat drama? Wasn’t I the lucky one?
I briefly contemplated ignoring the tabby, but then he added, “I know you’re out there, and I know you can hear me. Now come in here. We have something important to discuss.”
I hung my head and sucked in a deep breath, hoping it would give me strength for whatever confrontation lay in wait. Then I plastered on a smile and pushed the door open.
“It’s about time. I shouldn’t have to call more than once when I need you,” my cat chastised despite wearing a giant grin on his furry little face.
“What do you need?” I asked, too exhausted to play nice with him for much longer.
“I know you’re under a lot of stress right now, Angela, but I have good news to share. I’ve asked Grizabella to marry me, and she’s agreed.” He turned to the newly affianced feline and nuzzled her cheek with his.
“That’s great, guys,” I said, and I really meant it, too. They couldn’t really steal my thunder because no one else could understand their words or the change in their relationship status. “Congratulations.”
“Yes, Grizzy and I are thrilled to be spending the rest of our nine lives together. We’ve been talking and—”
I let out an audible groan and began tapping my foot. Oops.
Both cats curled up their faces in disgust.
Grizabella hissed.
Octo-Cat said, “Oh, sorr-ree if our love inconveniences you, Angela. I thought you’d be happy for us.”
I signed again. Really, I was only making matters worse here. Why couldn’t I just silently nod and smile until they released me form this room? Me and my big mouth… uh, foot.
“I am. I am. I’m sorry. I’m just stressed about other things,” I begged them to understand.
“As are we, which provides a perfect segue to my next point. The two naked creatures can’t stay here. This is my house, and now we’ll need the space for Grizzy and her human to join us under its roof. I will consent to Up-Chuck’s cohabitery since he is your mate, but the nude interlopers cannot stay.” He lifted his chin as if to indicate the matter was settled.
Yeah, right.
I sighed heavily and wrung my hands. “I’ve already told you. Where he goes, they go.”
“Then I guess he goes too. Sorry, I know you liked him.”
I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. “Octavius, you’re being very unreasonable and very spoiled.”
The Himalayan showstopper gasped. “My sweet, does she always talk to you with such disrespect?”
Octo-Cat clucked his sandpaper tongue. “Far more than I would like, I’m afraid. I really need to train my human better.”
The two casts nodded in unspoken agreement.
“Great, well, I’m going,” I announced, stomping back toward the door to let myself out.
“I’m not finished with you yet, young lady,” Octo-Cat roared after me.
I immediately turned back to glare daggers at my tabby. “You are not my parent.” It was getting harder and harder to keep my voice level. In fact, I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs now. I honestly don’t know how I managed to restrain myself.
“And a good thing, too, or you would be living in a constant state of punishment. Anyway, if you refuse to meet our very reasonable demand, then we have an alternate offer.” The words came out of Octo-Cat’s mouth but sounded far more like Grizabella to me.
“I’m listening,” I managed to say without sneering. I hated giving in to this constant bullying, but at the same time, I’d gladly take an easy alternative if it meant getting him to accept the sphynx cats in our home once and for all.
“As you so astutely pointed out, you are not our child.” He paused to nuzzle his feline fiancée once more. Both their eyes grew wide as they turned back to me. “You are not our child, but we would like to start a family. With your help, of course.”
Well, this was not what I had expected. I needed to let him down gently if I could. “Um, this is kind of awkward, but Octo-Cat, you’re neut—”
He cut me off with a hiss. “Don’t say that terrible word. I know what I am, but Grizabella has done some research, and she tells me that it can be reversible in humans who change their mind about starting a family. I’d like to request that mine be reversed too. Grizzy and I would like to start our family right away. And we’d like to try for biological kittens.”
“But, Octo-Cat, you’re neut—”
“Bah! Don’t say that word!”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. This was not a topic I enjoyed talking about with my cat and his girlfriend. Not one bit. “Your, um, procedure, is not reversible. They cut off your, uh, hairballs completely.”
“I know what they did,” he said stonily, staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes. “But Ethel loved me dearly—that was my first owner, darling—and as such, she must have saved them somewhere. Perhaps if you looked in the attic?”
“I…” I began, then, not knowing where to go from there, clamped my jaw shut.
Thank goodness, my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled the tiny screen out of my pocket and read the electronic missive that had just arrived from my mother:
Two minutes away.
A giant, enthusiastic smile bloomed on my face. It was so wide, my cheeks hurt, but I didn’t care. I’d been saved from this awkward and un-reproductive conversation, at least for now anyway.