‘No microchip,’ the vet said. ‘But you’ll be pleased to know she’s healthy. About six months old, I’d say. Do you want her spayed?’
‘Do I want her what?’
‘Spayed, neutered. She’s about to come into season any minute, and if you don’t act now you’ll have lots of kittens running around the place.’
‘I don’t want to do anything with her, except to find her owner.’
‘I don’t recognise her and I never forget a face,’ the vet said, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her messy bun. ‘You can put up posters and hope someone gets in touch.’
‘Or?’ Stevie sensed an “or”.
‘Take her to an animal shelter and see if they can rehome her.’
‘What if they can’t?’ Stevie asked, her arms tightening protectively around the cat. Peggy purred loudly.
‘It depends on the shelter. Some will keep her indefinitely, others will…’ The vet thumped her hand on the table, making Stevie jump. Peggy gave a piteous mew.
‘I’ll try the poster route,’ Stevie decided, and took the cat home with her, stopping off at the supermarket on the way to buy food, a couple of bowls, a litter tray, some treats, and the odd toy or two. Not that the cat was staying or anything, but while the animal was under her roof, the least she could do was to look after it properly. She even bought it a little red collar with a bell.
As she put it on the cat, she said, ‘Now I’ll know where you are. No sneaking downstairs. You’re not allowed in the shop or the kitchen,’ she warned. ‘If I catch you in either of those places, I’m taking you to the animal shelter.’
Peggy mewed softly and rolled over onto her back, batting her paws in the air.
The cat was really cute, Stevie acknowledged, and it would be nice to come home to a friendly welcome after a day slaving over a hot oven.
She thought back over the day. Cassandra had arrived promptly at nine, and after being shown how to use the coffee machine (a degree in engineering was needed to make the darned thing work), she set about taking orders and serving them as if she’d been doing it all her life.
Stevie had been so impressed with her that she’d left Cassandra on her own in the front of house after the lunchtime rush and had taken herself off to the kitchen to rustle up tomorrow’s batch of goodies. Which was why she’d had the time to take the cat to the vets this evening.
On the flip side, she now had several hours before bedtime when she had nothing to do. After heating up a tin of soup and eating it, Stevie decided to work on the idea she’d had of offering homemade soup when the weather began to turn. So she popped downstairs, grabbed some ingredients and returned to the flat, where she set about peeling and chopping.
As she worked, she hummed to herself, and every now and again had a one-sided conversation with Peggy.
The cat, for her part, sat and watched her with an inscrutable expression.