Page 43 of Rescued By the Beast
Ethan unfolds the tunnel on the floor, and Mark puts me there, finally letting go of me.
I stand still, looking at the tunnel in front of me. My gaze slowly shifts to the toys scattered around me and then to the men.
They all seem to be staring at me, waiting for a reaction.
Oh, damn...
How would a cat act?
I don't have time to hesitate. I raise my tail and sway it gently, then take a step towards the tunnel. I make a quick movement with my head, trying to look curious. Then I jump into the tunnel with a feline grace, as if I'm enjoying myself.
When I come out the other side, I see that they are still watching me.
I am a cat. I am a cat. I am a cat.
I hope no one notices that I'm holding myself back from collapsing in panic. My heart feels like it's about to jump out of my mouth.
I turn my back on them and stare at the other toys scattered around. I choose the one closest to me, a stuffed mouse, and start tapping it with my paws, as I've seen other kittens do. The toy moves, but I soon push it again, repeating the gesture as if it were a super fun game.
I quickly glance at the men. They are still watching me, but finally seem satisfied.
"It's getting late," says Ethan, the human vet who took care of me, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
The bear, whom I discovered is called Ted, agrees with him.
"I'm leaving too. See you at work tomorrow, boss."
"See you," replies Mark, glancing at me before heading for the door behind his friends.
They're leaving.
Thank the stars and Mother Moon, they're leaving.
I just want this day to end!
Apparently, Mark is going to work at the company tomorrow. I'll try my escape then.
As the tension eases a little with that thought, I feel a twinge in my bladder. I've been holding back the urge to pee, but I can't hold it in any longer.
The downstairs bathroom door is open, and I walk over there. The humiliation burns inside me. I'm not going to use the bloody litter box.
I refuse to accept that my situation has come to this.
I hear Mark's footsteps passing through the living room and then going upstairs; he's far enough away.
What if...
I close my eyes, trying to concentrate, trying to transform myself back, but nothing happens. The block is still there, overwhelming.
Resigned, I assess the toilet.
Lifting the lid is a challenge, but I manage it. Then I balance carefully on the edge, hoping I won't fall in.
How embarrassing, all my elegance and feline grace reduced to this.
When I'm done, I mentally thank the stars that it's a cistern toilet. I climb onto the cistern and use my paw to press the button, activating the flush.
I jump down to the floor, and as I walk out the door, Mark is coming down the stairs behind me.
