"I know," Roxy crooned. "I'm sorry to have to do it this way. But it's not safe out here for you guys. And you wouldn't have just come to me on your own, now would you?"
The cat hissed, baring its teeth, its feral growl low in its throat. Roxy picked up the cage by the thick wire handle on top. She wore leather gloves. Sometimes these wild cats could be ferocious. Tiger kitty hissed again, puffing up his fur, bristling it to appear larger.
Roxy felt tiny claws meet up with the outside of her glove, but the leather was so thick, even the miniature tiger's claws couldn't penetrate it. She smirked. Hadn't she been doing this for a long time? Miss Roxy knew the drill.
****
"Now just what have you guys been up to since I left? Hmm?" No one answered. Seventy-two eyes stared at her from half as many faces. Furry faces. And the eyes staring at her were of the feline variety. "Have you all got each other's tongues?"
"You're here early, Roxy."
She glanced up to see her assistant and good friend, Teresa Lynn, standing in the door to her office. "Hey. Yep, I caught another feral cat from the park. Tiger kitty's now sulking in the back room in the trap. He finished the smelly tuna, though." She chuckled. "And I decided to get an early start on those adoption forms today. The shelter can never have too many willing pet-parents, right?"
Teresa Lynn nodded. "Exactly."
Roxy washed her hands in the bathroom, drying them on a thick towel. Pushing open the door to her office, she grimaced. So much paperwork on her desk—when was she supposed to get it all done? Taking care of the cats always came first. They might not be thrilled if she sat at her desk to order supplies and check adoption forms before filling their food dishes. She backed up and shut the door. Later. It wasn't going anywhere.
She stopped in Teresa Lynn's doorway, watching her blonde assistant check through their huge stack of mail. They always hoped there'd be donations.
"Found one!" She waved the envelope at her boss.
"Great," said Roxy. "See if there're any more. We're coming up short on the mortgage this month. Not that it hasn't happened before, but the bank isn't loving us right now. But what's new?" Thank goodness there was enough to pay her full-time salary and Teresa Lynn's at thirty hours a week. But between that and the overhead, things were always tight.
"I'll keep looking." Teresa Lynn continued to flip though the stack. "Sorry. Just the one."
"Rats," Roxy muttered as she made her way down the narrow corridor between the cages of stray cats. "Who's hungry? Anybody? Raise your left paw if you want some breakfast."
Every fur-bearing creature in the place began to pace and howl. Tails flipped and whiskers twitched. This was her favorite time of day. Everyone seemed glad to see her. Nothing like being popular.
Roxy filled flimsy plastic bowls with cheap cat food, the only kind they could afford. One by one, cats purred and pranced, eager for his or her turn to gobble their rations. Along with breakfast, each cat received a quick chin-scratch. Later on, they'd be let out of their pens in stages to frolic and mingle. Then Roxy and Teresa Lynn could give them more individualized petting and attention. Roxy especially loved kitty happy hour. She sighed. Yep, when the purrs reached the three-hundred-decibel level.
Roxy lifted one of the cats out of his cage. His fur tickled her arms. So soft. "There, now. Doesn't it feel better?" The orange tabby named Oliver resembled the Cheshire Cat. Roxy brushed his long, tangled fur. "You just need a haircut don't you, my little man? Or maybe a nice French braid." She pictured him with blue ribbons woven into the braid. Not like I'd actually do it, but wouldn't it be cute?
Teresa Lynn walked up, stopping beside her. She giggled as she watched them. "You talk to them as if they were human, Roxy."
"Well, they think they're people, so I guess I see them that way, too." She shrugged.
They both jumped and stared at the front door as someone rattled the doorknob. Were those pesky neighborhood kids knocking on her door and running away again? Roxy petted Oliver one last time and put him back in his cage. She walked to the door to peer through the glass. "What do you want? We don't open for another two hours." Go wreak havoc somewhere else.
The boy standing outside the door was frowning. His navy, hooded sweatshirt was too large for his skinny frame, and his dark hair needed a cut, badly. Roxy waited for him to leave, but he stayed planted right where he stood. What in the world?
She made a second attempt to dissuade her frumpy visitor. "Um, sorry, but we're closed. If you want to see the cats, can you come back at ten?"
The boy stared through the glass at her with large blue eyes. As she peered closer, she realized he was crying. "I can't stand it," she muttered. "Why is this kid standing out there turning on the waterworks?" She unlocked the door and opened it for her unwelcome guest.
He glanced around behind him as if he expected someone to be watching him. He stared up at Roxy, but not by much. They were close to the same height. He still didn't move. Were his feet glued to the sidewalk?
"Well," she said, "you got me to open the door. Do you want to come on in?" Roxy opened the door wider. It creaked on its rusty hinges. What's with this kid, anyway? She didn't have all day—things to do, cats to brush.
He shuffled inside but still didn't say anything. Every few seconds, he wiped the tears from his face with the too-long sleeve of his sweatshirt. Roxy waited for him to speak. The boy didn't accommodate. What was she supposed to do now? Tap dance?
"Derek! What's taking so long?"
Roxy jumped at the sound of the deep, loud voice coming from just outside the door. A gorgeous man popped his head around the door to the shop entrance. Her eyes widened as she gazed up into the face attached to the voice. Deep brown eyes the color of dark chocolate peered into hers. And the shoulders on the guy were like boulders. Her mouth went dry. Somehow the saliva disappeared, but where it went, she had no clue. Palms sweated. Come to think of it, her entire person now felt twenty degrees hotter. She momentarily forgot how to breathe.
Dark-chocolate-eyed man located the object of his search. "Derek? Oh, there you are. What's taking so long? Can you start today or not?"
Derek, the sullen kid, stared at his dirty, floppy red tennis shoes. He shrugged his shoulders but remained mute. Roxy remembered to inhale and she found her voice.
"And you are…?" Wiping her damp hands on the sides of her jeans, she stared pointedly at chocolate man without blinking. She felt blindsided and needed to regain her equilibrium.
"Max Weller."
"Okay…."
"Didn't they call you?"
Roxy kept staring at the man as she crossed her arms over her pink t-shirt. Better not to let him see her shallow breathing. Didn't want to let on how he affected her.
"By the blank look on your face, I see they didn't."
"Look Mr. uh…Max. I'm busy. As you can see, I have a bunch of furry children here clamoring for my attention. And there's only so many seconds in a minute, you know? So, maybe you could tell me why you're in here with, um, Derek."
Gorgeous Max ran his large hand through his short, dark hair. "Okay. The people at the juvenile detention center were supposed to call you a few days ago. My son, Derek, got himself into—shall we say, a little skirmish, and now he needs to do community service." He paused to look down at her. "They didn't call you, huh? Amazing. Our fine city officials, on the ball as usual."
Roxy sighed. She pushed her chin-length hair behind her ears. "I see where this is going now. You want Derek to work here to help complete his community service, right? How old is he?"
"He's eleven. Yes, if it works for you, it would be great if he could help out here. I'm sorry to spring this on you. I stupidly assumed they would have called you and everything would be set up already."
Roxy glanced around. The thirty-six cats seemed to multiply before her eyes. Was it her imagination, or was the meowing getting louder? She definitely needed the help. For free. However, she had doubts about sullen, seemingly mute Derek. But wha
t choice did she have? It would be stupid on her part to turn down any help. Besides, maybe Max would stick around to help supervise his son. Having him hang around wouldn't bother her. Not at all.
She cleared her throat and focused on the son's problem instead of the dad's hunkiness. "Okay, Max," she said. "My name's Roxy Williams. I think we can help you out, so here's the deal. Derek would have to be here every morning at eight a.m. to feed the cats. Then he would let them out in stages so they could get some playtime. Afterward, he'd get the glamorous task of cleaning stinky litter boxes."
Derek found his tongue. "Eight a.m. every day? No way. And clean up after cats? I hate cats. Uh-uh. Not gonna happen." He crossed his arms.
Max frowned at his son. "Oh, yes it will. You'll do everything this nice lady tells you, and you'll do it without your usual moping, complaining, and sulking. Plus you'll be thankful you're getting to do this instead of spending your entire summer in juvenile detention. Is that clear, Derek?"
The skinny boy mumbled something Roxy was sure was not for polite conversation. She raised her eyebrows.
"Excuse me?" Max boomed.
Derek jumped, and so did Roxy. "Yes, Dad," answered Derek, who still appeared sullen but seemed to have the smarts not to mumble again.
Roxy glanced up at Max. It was all she could do to squelch a 'Yes, Dad' herself. The man certainly had a set of pipes. "Were you wanting him to start right away?"
"If it's not a problem. And I'll make sure you get the paperwork from the detention center to keep track of his hours."
"Sure. Fine. We've had a couple of other kids come through here for similar reasons. Glad to help." Roxy nodded, but still had serious doubts about Derek's willingness to do what he was told. This might end up being even more work for her if she had to spend a lot of time going over Derek's duties with him. And time was one commodity she did not have in abundance.
Max thanked her and left. Roxy hated to see him go. But why? Maybe it had something to do with the fact she hadn't had a date with someone who wasn't a troll in over a year. Mr. Weller was the finest looking man she'd seen since…well, ever. With his dark hair and eyes, they could be one of those cute brother-sister looking couples. She'd only just met the man, yet she pictured herself leaping into his big, strong arms and planting a kiss on his luscious lips.
She sighed. What had come over her? Her stupid hormones were going to get her in trouble.
****
Max pulled his vehicle away from the curb. Leaving Derek at the shelter had been hard. A stabbing pain in his gut reminded him he now had dad-guilt to deal with. Poor Derek, he doesn't deserve this. Max had argued hard to get him out of community service, but the powers that be weren't budging an inch.
Max loved his son so much. In fact, it almost pained him how much. If he'd gotten to spend more time with Derek over the past few years, he would have known the feeling sooner. Now, though, they were making up for lost time.
He'd gone from being a bachelor having everything on his own terms, to being a single dad. Not that he would change that, of course. It thrilled him to spend time with his son, getting to know him better every day. Even little stuff, like what kind of cereal Derek liked or shopping for his school clothes, meant so much to Max. Sure, that stuff would fade into the background later, but right now it was still new. Still an adventure. Even though he'd fought like crazy to get custody of his son, he'd never dreamed how much he'd love the kid once they were together. It blew him away.
He glanced out the window at two women pushing strollers. Roxy Williams seemed like a nice woman. Attractive, too, although that wasn't on Max's radar right now. Couldn't be. Not with Derek in the picture. His son came first, and that was how it had to be, whether Max liked it or not.
****
After Max left, Roxy finished feeding the cats, then trudged to her office to do some paperwork. Teresa Lynn instructed Derek on his first task. Roxy had left the office door open, which was right across from the cat cages. Not to spy on them, just to make sure Derek didn't get into any trouble. She had a clear view of them from where she sat. When kids came for volunteer work or community service, she almost felt like a babysitter.
"Okay Derek," said Teresa Lynn, "since Roxy already fed everyone, the next step is to let the cats out so they can stretch their legs. They get cramped in their cages and need some exercise. Plus it's good for them to socialize with us and the other cats so they don't feel so alone."
She demonstrated how to unlatch the first cage and lifted the cat, a Russian Blue look-alike, out of the cage by grasping him under his armpits. Holding the cat close, she supported his feet with her hands until she set him on the floor. "You need to hold them for a minute to let them feel safe before you set them down. Otherwise, they get a little nervous and might dig their claws into your arm." She glanced down at Derek. "Okay, now you try the next one."
The boy trembled. His face was pale and sweat gathered on his upper lip. Derek stared at the cage, then at Teresa Lynn. He didn't make a move toward the door latch, however, even though the white cat meowed and moved closer to the cage door, inviting Derek to let him out. Teresa Lynn cleared her throat.
Roxy put down her paperwork and walked toward them. "How's it going?" she asked, although she knew by her assistant's expression and Derek's appearance it wasn't going great. And she'd been watching their progress from her office. Why did he look so scared? He'd been all attitude when he talked back to his dad.
"Derek seems a little apprehensive, I think." She gave Roxy an I-don't-get-it shrug.
Roxy watched her unwilling new helper. "So Derek, have you had any experience around cats?"
Derek nodded. His too-long bangs flopped over his blue eyes. He stared at her with a wide-eyed expression which could only be described as fear.
Uh-oh. Not good. "Oh. Well, why don't you tell us about…um…what happened between you and a cat? Maybe we can talk about it and help things along for you. Sound okay?"
At first, it seemed as if Derek was mute again. Roxy and Teresa Lynn eyed each other over his head. After an uncomfortable minute or so, he finally said, "She threw a cat on me."
Roxy blinked twice. "Excuse me?"
Derek stared down at the floor as if in a trance and spoke almost in a whisper. The women had to lean closer to hear him. Roxy angled her head, her ear nearly touching his hair.
"My mom. She threw a neighbor's cat on me when I was little. It scratched my face and arms bad. Scared me to death. I haven't been near a cat since. Until now."
Roxy stared at Teresa Lynn. She had raised eyebrows and her mouth wide open. Her own expression probably mirrored it. Teresa Lynn scurried with the gray cat back to her office. Once the cat was settled and the office door closed, she returned.
Roxy was still trying to process what the boy had said. His own mother? Why in the world would someone do such an awful thing? To a child? She found her voice as she gently steered the boy away from the cages. "Derek, I'm so sorry. I'm sure it was awful for you. So your mom…."
Derek glanced up. Some of the color had returned to his face. "She isn't a nice person. And did a lot of mean stuff to me. My whole life. I hated living with her. Dad's been trying to get custody for years. He finally did a few months ago. Then I screwed up by hitting Billy at school, but he made me mad. It makes me feel mad. A lot. So that's why I'm here."
Roxy gazed at the boy with a softer heart. Poor kid. What mother could treat her child like dirt? Here the woman was lucky enough to have a son, and she treated him worse than something on the bottom of her tennis shoe. People should have to apply for licenses before being allowed to become a parent. She reached out her hand and touched his shoulder. "Listen, Derek, I see now this might not be the right place for you. Are you sure you'll be able to be around the cats?"
The boy appeared close to tears, just as he had when he first showed up at the front door. "Those people at the place, you know, the ones who told me to come here, said there weren't any other places to put me ri
ght now. It was either this, or the detention center. And that would be even worse than this." He peered up at Roxy and grimaced. "Sorry."
Roxy bit her bottom lip. "It's okay. Listen, we'll get through this, all right? I'm willing if you are. And besides, we could use the help, right, Teresa Lynn?"
The assistant bobbed her blonde head. "Absolutely. We sure can. We'd love it if you could stay."
"We'll start slow," said Roxy. "How about you clean out the litter pans first? Before you have to actually touch the cats. I know it's an icky job, but you can wear gloves. And we do it quickly. You'll have it down in no time. Ready to try?" She kept her voice upbeat, but still had her doubts it would work out. Who could blame the kid for being terrified of cats after what his mom had done?
Derek didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway. The women dragged a huge sack of litter and a large trash bag from the storeroom. Roxy explained how to use the litter scoop to sift out the waste while leaving most of the litter in the pan. Then he would add new litter, as needed, using a small plastic shovel. He gave it a try. His first attempt was done with a scrunched-up expression, looking as if he'd swallowed curdled goat's milk laced with sauerkraut juice.
Roxy did her best to hide her grin. It was a stinky job. "Good. See? Not so hard, huh?"
"How many times do I have to do this?" He held up the white plastic scoop in his green-gloved hand.
"Thirty-six times a day."
He stared at her, his eyes round.
"Seriously," she said. "There are thirty-six cats and each one gets changed once a day. Actually, some get it more often if they have a smelly…well, we won't go there just yet. And the number could change depending on cats who get adopted, and cats people drop off for us to take care of. So, since you've got the hang of it, go ahead and get started on the rest. Teresa Lynn and I will take the cats out first, and put them in what we call the mingle area. This way, you won't have to worry about touching the cats. Sound good?"
Derek seemed dejected but resigned as he nodded.
Cats and Cowboys Page 6