Page 14 of Ink & Snow
“I’m not a cat owner,” I told him, standing on the other side of a metal slab in a room that smelled of disinfectant and had a medical cross section of both a dog and a cat on the wall. I watched him feed the baby and explain how it was done.
“Well, congratulations.” He wiped her little mouth clean.
“Let me rephrase. I can’t be a cat owner.”
He looked at me, stroking the kitten behind her tiny ears. “Allergies?”
“No, I just don’t take care of things.”
Duncan’s eyebrows shot up. “But you own a flower shop. Once she grows up, she’ll hunt bugs and such for you.”
“But…I just can’t.”
That seemed to register finally, and Duncan sighed. “Listen, how about you keep her until after the holidays? Or until I can find someone else who can take care of her. Just two or three weeks. Should get you on Santa’s nice list.”
I looked down, and of course the kitten looked right up me and wobbled toward my hand on the tiniest of baby paws, her tail stretched out for balance.
“Fine, okay. But if you find someone who can take her sooner, call me.”
Duncan smiled. “Sure. What do you call her?”
I looked at him. “Why do I have to call her anything?”
He shrugged. “You found her. Seems right. And it might help find her a foster if you give her a cute name.”
I snorted. “What the fuck is a cute name for a kitten?”
“Language. Don’t curse in front of her.”
He grinned at me. I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m not keeping the kitten.”
“I never said you would. Just asking for a name for her file. And make it cute.”
I sighed, scratched her behind the ears, and yeah, she definitely started purring.
“Cherry. Short for Cherry Pie. Because everyone loves cherry pie.”
“Cherry. Okay. I’ll set you up with everything you’ll need. Mind the regular feedings, and if she gets lethargic or something doesn’t feel right, call me or Dwayne. Any time of day or night.” He scribbled something on a Post-it and handed it to me.
Kitty emergency,he’d written, followed by his number.
“Thanks, I guess.”
Cherry meowed as if to agree. For someone so tiny, she had a strong voice.
Sheriff Dwayne had a unicorn rubber duck stuck to his dashboard. Also a police radio, which made sense. The cup holders between us overflowed with very healthy-looking granola bars.
“You settling in okay?” he asked me on the short ride back to the store, plowing the inch or so that had fallen in the past hour as he went.
“I’m not sure. I think I met every medical professional in this town. And the law. Some might call that a bad omen.”
The sheriff grunted, looked at the bundle on my lap. “People used to say black cats are a bad omen. Idiots. Speaking of, you should get that car of yours charged. And get a proper winter jacket.”
I wasn’t going to pick a fight with the sheriff and accuse him of calling me an idiot, but I gave him a moderate amount of side-eye.
“I just got here last night, and this little stray sort of ruined my plans for the morning. Give me a break, Sheriff.”
