I opened the door, half of me soaking wet, and stared at two old people holding a bible to their chest. They smiled widely at me, but they had knowing eyes. They knew who I was, and I wondered if they were sent by Becky who, incidentally, was watering her garden next door within view and peering at us.
“Hello!” the woman with the bible and crazy hair cheered. “Awww, look at your wittle furry friend all tucked under your arm! Awww, isn’t that sweet, Howard?”
Howard was staring at my chest, but he made a grunting sound. Meanwhile, I twisted my body to the side, shielding my poor little dude from the word “wittle”.
“You guys want anything?” I asked, warily.
“We wanted to give you this booklet,” the woman returned, handing me it. Jesus was on the front, all blue-eyes and blond hair (riiight), and on the top read, “DO YOU NEED TO BE SAVED?”
I stared at the booklet for a moment. “Uh, wow, thanks. I’ll check it out later.”
“Please do,” the woman went on. “It’s never too late to be saved until it’s too late.”
I blinked. “Mmkay.”
“Do you want us to go over some verses with you while your little angel is tucked under your arm? She looks sleepy.”
I frowned, insulted even. “He.” Jeesh, I was already overprotective of him. How sad.
“And no,” I added. “I’m kind of really busy right now. I’ll be saved later.”
Before they could respond, I slammed the door shut and threw the booklet on the entrance stand. Then I went into the living room, my little dude still tucked under my arm, and knelt down beside the scratching post. I let him roam. He walked straight past the scratching post and dug his claws into the black leather couch. “No!” I yelped. “Not there!” I picked him up and settled him on the top of the post. He jumped back down and ate the leaves on the fake plant a few feet away. Fucking hell, I got up again and turned him away. This shit was hard. He was so dumb.
I rested back on the rug and watched him destroy the room. He clawed at the leather couch again, but I just went “meh” and let him. Eventually, he moved over to me and stepped on me, like I was some freaking doormat. Was this normal? He balanced himself on my breasts and nudged his wet nose against mine. I heard him purr and laughed as he then proceeded to knead my neck.
“Ouch!” I hissed, jumping beneath him. He lost balance and crashed to the floor. I apologized profusely, and he stood back up, shook his head clear again, and wandered around once more. He was surprisingly chill. A cat that liked water, liked to be tucked under my arm, quick to bounce back from landing on his head. Most of all, he came back to me and tucked himself under my armpit and fell asleep.
“You’re like me,” I told him.
I called him Tuck because…well, he loved to be tucked into my side every night.
But fuck he was expensive. 400 dollars went poof in a day.
*
Tuck got my mind off things. He was the perfect man. He gave me love when I was alone and drinking wine straight from the bottle. He watched Sherlock with me and listened to my tales of how fucking sexy Benedict Cumberbatch was. “Do you want me to have his babies?” I asked Tuck. He purred and head butted me. “Thanks. I think you’re freaking awesome too.”
I let him out on walks with me, and he never went far. I could have put him on a lead if I wanted to, but I didn’t like the idea I’d be tugging his neck around. He woke me up in the mornings when it was time to go to school and the alarm was pissing him off. He protected me from branches that hit my window in the middle of the night by growling and smacking at the window.
He also caught birds and dumped their carcasses at my feet. It was the sweetest thing. I’d never go hungry again if carcasses were appetising. I doted on him. I got him toys and those ridiculously overpriced premium foods with the words “organic” and “sea breeze” on the front. I considered getting him a friend to play with, but he was extremely territorial and the sight of another cat had him clawing at the screen windows. I had to get Adrian to replace three in one month.
“Does your mother know about Tuck?” he asked me as he fitted the screens in.
“Maybe,” I answered without care. “She hasn’t said anything.” She never said anything at all.
He didn’t seem happy about that, but he kept his mouth shut and bent down to stroke Tuck. Tuck hissed and hit at his hand.
Oh, he also didn’t like strangers.
I’d gone from being that social butterfly to loving my solitude. Before I couldn’t go days without talking to someone. Now, I would happily go weeks so long as I was buried in a book or watching Star Wars.