With Christmas only a few weeks away, the Village gets busier by the day. The line to see Santa is seemingly endless, and there’s almost never a lull. It’s good in a way because it keeps my mind occupied as I chat with families, hand out wrapped books to kids, and direct people to the gift shop. It also sucks because there’s no time to talk to Hugh. It doesn’t help that he takes the quickest dinner break known to humankind each night so he doesn’t keep the kids waiting.
Luckily for me, despite there only being one Santa, there are enough elves to ensure each of us still gets our usual breaks. I meet Meredith and fill her in on the cat situation, asking if she thinks there’s anything I can do.
“I don’t see what,” she says, taking a bite of her veggie burger, then waving to a little girl who’s staring at us from the next table. We’re in the diner, as usual. The food is so good it’s worth occasionally getting accosted by excited kids before their parents tell them to let us eat in peace. “Unless you could prove she’s mistreating the cat in some way, I think you just have to move on.” She chews slowly, her eyes going squinty in the way I’ve come to think of as her ‘thinking face’. Finally, she says, “Could be the Universe’s way of letting you know you should get a cat of your own.”
My lips lift in an involuntary smile. I don’t even question Meredith’s talk of the Universe anymore. Since she believes it, I’m open-minded enough to take to heart the things she says. “Maybe. I’ve never had a pet, so it didn’t occur to me I might be an animal person.” I think of the way Mrs. Gunderson’s cat responded to me. How much I liked her sweet little face and the sound of her purring. How comforting it was to wake up in the night and feel the weight of her body against my leg.
“You could be meant to have that sort of companionship. Especially if…” She trails off, shoving a fry in her mouth. Her wide eyes look guilty as they dart away from mine.
“Especially if Hugh does go back to Scotland?” I ask, and she nods. “Maybe you’re right.”
*****
As soon as Celia and I get home, I strip off my elf costume and put on my pajamas. Grabbing my woefully underused laptop, I settle on the couch and start looking up local pet adoption agencies. There’s a woman at work, Kathleen—Kat for short—who happily embraces being the office’s resident Crazy Cat Lady. She fosters cats, plus has at least a couple of her own. She’s always telling people how they should adopt, not shop, and since it never applied to me, my typical response was to smile and nod. Her lectures have clearly sunk in, though, because here I am seeing what’s required to adopt.
The minute I hear a rattling from outside, I rocket off the couch, nearly dropping my laptop on the floor. It’s like some part of me has been listening for that sound, hoping for it. I practically run to the balcony and wrench the door open. The cat doesn’t zoom inside like she did last time; instead, she sits outside the door, staring up at me with her huge, glowing eyes.
“Well?” I say, stepping back and waving my hand in a sweeping gesture. She lets out a hesitant meow. When I returned her to Mrs. Gunderson, I was so sure she felt betrayed; this time I feel her hope. I bend to pick her up, and she nuzzles against me, bumping her nose against my cheek. Tears prickle my eyes as I close and lock the door, and then I’m laughing at myself for feeling this amount of relief that she came back.
I fix her another plate of tuna and set it on the floor, along with a bowl of water. When I start to move away, the cat abandons her dinner and follows me to the couch. The entire rest of the night, she won’t leave my side. I think of Meredith and her talk of signs and the Universe.
I know what I have to do tomorrow. This cat is mine.
*****
The next morning, I march up to Mrs. Gunderson’s apartment. Between the cat’s reaction to her and her reappearance last night, I don’t even consider bringing her with me.
The old woman opens the door after my second knock, a cigarette that’s mostly ash dangling from her fingers. “You again. What do you want now?”
“Your cat showed up on my balcony again last night.”
She lets out an impatient huff. I nearly gag when the scent of her cigarette and coffee breath hits me. “That damn cat is more trouble than it’s worth. Don’t bother bringing it back. See if the shelter will take it.”
“You don’t want her?” My voice pitches high in a combination of incredulity and indignation. “Why would you even get a cat if you’re not going to take proper care of it?”
“I didn’t want it in the first place!” She throws her hands up, causing ashes to rain down around her. “My granddaughter ended up with a litter and couldn’t get rid of all of them. She wanted me to have one, said I needed the companionship or some BS like that. Never wanted the damn thing.”
Anger bubbles inside me. What would have happened if the cat hadn’t found her way to my apartment? Would Mrs. Gunderson have dropped her at the shelter? Or just let her waste away? “I’m keeping her,” I tell her. “She deserves much better than you ever gave her.”
Mrs. Gunderson shrugs her bony shoulders. “Fine by me.” She starts to shut the door in my face, but I stop it with my palm.
“What’s her name?” I ask.
She shrugs again. “Doesn’t have one.”
“You never named her?” If my voice gets any higher, only dogs will be able to hear it. “What about shots and stuff?”
“Had all of them at my granddaughter’s insistence. Spayed, too. Cost me a pretty penny.” Her beady eyes narrow, sweeping over my face. “Come to think of it,” she says slowly, “since you don’t have to do all that and I saved you all that money, maybe I ought to sell the cat to you.”
I almost laugh. The nerve of this old lady is unbelievable! Cocking my head to the side, I pretend to think it over. “You could. Or you could let me have her and I won’t report you for animal cruelty.” Her eyes go wide and her mouth pops opens. All that comes out is sputtering. “The cat obviously hasn’t been fed or cared for properly. You can tell just by looking at her. Plus there was her reaction to you…”
I allow the words to trail off, letting the threat hang in the air. Respecting my elders was drilled into me in my youth, and I can imagine the earful I’d get from my aunt if she heard me speaking to Mrs. Gunderson this way. But my aunt isn’t here, and respect should be earned. This crotchety old woman doesn’t deserve my respect, nor does she deserve that cat. My cat.
Without another word, Mrs. Gunderson slams the door in my face. Before she can change her mind, I scurry back down to my apartment. The door is barely open before the cat rushes over and winds between my legs. Experimentally, I leave the door to the hall open. If she makes a break for it, I’ll know it’s not me she really wants, so much as freedom from Mrs. Gunderson. I hold my breath as she goes to the door, sticks her head out, and gives a little sniff. She returns a second later and goes back to winding around my legs.
I close the door and slide against it until I’m sitting on the floor. Scooping the cat into my arms, I bury my face in her fur. “I guess I have a cat now.”