Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Raye set that baby to purring and drove us to the Oasis.
When we were going through the security gate, Martha was coming out.
She took one look at us and said, “Hells bells. You both look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“We just took part in helping a man with severe PTSD be taken from a homeless camp to an inpatient psych facility,” I stated.
Martha blinked before she said, “It’s not even ten o’clock.”
“We didn’t get to pick the timing,” Raye said.
Martha took us in.
She then declared, “I don’t do hot chocolate. But I sure as shit do shots of whisky.”
I appreciated whisky, even if it wasn’t a fave.
Regardless, I asked, “Is that an offer?”
“The best one I got,” Martha replied.
“Sounds pretty good to me,” Raye said.
“Me too,” I put in.
Whatever she was heading off to do, she abandoned it by marching toward the courtyard, ordering, “Follow me, girls.”
Raye took my hand.
I held hers tight.
And we followed Martha.
“You don’t have to do this now.”
“No, I don’t. But I think I need to do it. Though, you don’t have to do it with me. I can come back.”
“You’re not picking a pet without my input.”
We were sitting outside Halo Animal Rescue.
I won’t get into what Eric told me happened at the psych facility. We could just say that getting Chris there was a whole helluva lot easier than getting Chris admitted. In fact, since he refused, they had to call the Johnsons back so they could admit him as members of his family.
The bad news for Mr. and Mrs. Johnson was that they still hadn’t been allowed to see him and were told the staff needed a few days to evaluate and get him settled before he could have visitors.
The good news for Mr. and Mrs. Johnson was that they knew where their son was, it was safe, clean and there were people there who could help him.
So I decided to take that morning as a win.
“Let’s do it,” Eric said.
I nodded, we both got out, we went into the shelter, and we explained to the staff what we were looking for.
They asked us to complete a questionnaire. We did, they assessed it, and then they took us to the cats.
It was then I realized why Eric was hesitant about me doing this.
Regardless that they were double-decker and gave the fur babies room to move, just looking at the cages of unwanted animals that found themselves in their own homeless camp was so crushing in that moment, I took a step back.
Eric slid an arm around my waist and bent to me.
“We’ll come back next weekend,” he said quickly.
The staff member was studying me quizzically.
“No,” I said. “Fuck no,” I went on. “We’re doing this now.” I caught the staff member’s gaze. “Which one has been here the longest?”
Her eyes lit, she beckoned with a hand and took us to a cage where a black cat lay, curled into himself. He had lovely thick fur and a chunky body.
I hadn’t even seen his face, and it was love at first sight.
He didn’t lift his head out of his fur, but he opened his big yellow eyes to look at me.
The staff member opened the cage.
The cat finally lifted his head.
Carefully, I offered my hand for him to sniff.
He sniffed it, then he stood and would have walked right out of the cage and fallen to the floor, if I wasn’t there to catch him in my arms.
He curled up there and blinked.
“What’s his name?” Eric asked the staff member.
“Homer,” she replied, and I went still. “But we call him the General because, when he’s in the community room, since he’s been here the longest, he keeps the other cats in line.”
My gaze shot to Eric, but he was staring at the lady in stunned surprise.
“You’re shitting me,” he said to her.
“No. Why?” she asked.
Eric didn’t answer.
I did.
“We’ll take him.”
I snapped a photo of El Generalissimo (I renamed him, for obvious reasons, and I was calling him Henny for short), who was lying on my chest, kitty nose turned in the air, eyes closed, purring.
I then sent it to Jeff with the text, Meet El Generalissimo, Henny for short. My first child.
It didn’t take long before Jeff returned, YOU GOT A CAT WHILE I’M STUCK IN A SAFE HOUSE!?
Yes, it was in shouty caps.
Told you we’d both always wanted a pet.
The world keeps turning, my brother. I replied.
He looks bored. When I get home, he’s coming over to Uncle Jeff’s to play.
He’s ten. Eric bought him 5,921 cat toys. He just sits there and follows them with his eyes as we jiggle them around. Then when I sit down, he crawls in my lap. He’s a lover not a player.
We’ll see.
Yes, we would.
El Generalissimo yawned, I clicked a quick shot and sent it to Jeff.