“Too late for that.” We looked down to see that Bridger had followed Don across the landing to see what was going on. He hop-limped towards the sofa and my visitor jumped down to approach the little fluff-ball. We watched, ready to intervene, as the big black cat circled Bridger, sniffing at him and nudging at the spot where his fourth leg should be.
Bridger swatted at the bigger cat, and knocked himself over. I stifled a laugh and Don jabbed me with an elbow.
Boo – it popped out earlier and I had to call him something – head butted the kitten, then picked him up by the scruff of the neck and took him to the sofa. “Hey! No!” I called and headed towards them.
“No,” Don laid a hand on my arm. “It’s okay.”
We walked over to stand behind the sofa and looked down to see Boo, holding Bridger down with one paw and licking furiously at his face. Both cats were purring, and we figured they were getting along okay and left them to it to get beers for ourselves.
We watched the cats bathing for a while, until Bridger got bored and wanted to play. Boo tolerated him, and twitched his tail back and forth for the youngster to chase. After a while, though, Boo gave Bridger a little slap-down and headed to the other end of the sofa, where I was sitting.
“Hey, Boo,” I said. “You looking for a lap?”
He meowed, and climbed aboard. After circling a couple of times he flopped down and closed his eyes.
“That’s the damndest thing,” Don said.
“I know, right? Where did he come from? How did he show up at my door? So weird.”
“If you keep him you’ll need to get him fixed, you know.”
I felt Boo stiffen in my lap. He must have been responding to my own unease. “I’m not keeping him. He’s not my cat, so it’s not my decision. He’s full grown, and look how gorgeous he is. What if he’s, like, a champion stud or something? His bits are staying where they are.”
Boo stretched and started purring again, and I stroked that soft, shiny fur. He was probably the most beautiful cat I’d ever seen.
“Okay,” Don said. “Well, I’m off. Come on Bridger, let’s go home.” Don scooped up his three-legged terror and headed back to his own place. I got up to close the door and turned to see Boo watching me from the sofa.
“Time for me to get to bed, Boo-Boo Kitty. What’ll it be? In or out?” He didn’t move, so I gave him one more chance. “You wanna go home, Boo?” He blinked and jumped down from the sofa, but instead of heading for the door he jumped up onto the bed and started sniffing around.
“Okay, then. I’ll leave this window open, though, in case you want to leave or go take care of your business. I don’t have a litter box, Boo, so be a gentleman, okay?”
He blinked at me again, so I opened the window and crossed my fingers. I rattled around the apartment for a while, cleaning up and getting ready for bed. Boo was still stretched out across the bed and I had to shove him to one side to make room for myself. “Don’t be a bed hog, Boo,” I told him as I slipped under the covers. I rolled onto my side and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. Boo curled up against my belly and I hoped I didn’t scare him off with any bad dreams.
Of course the dreams came. I started to feel panicky and confused. I was in a familiar place, but it felt wrong. I went from room to room, searching for what was missing. The Jake part of my brain knew what was wrong, but the dream me was confused and lonely. My dream-self started to whimper and cry, and then I was being shaken awake.
I gasped and clutched my chest, feeling fur. I’ve got a little chest hair, but not that much, and I had put a t-shirt on before going to bed. Boo. I pulled my hand away, not wanting to hurt or scare him. He was kneading at my chest and purring, and I realized that was what had woken me.
“Oh... oh geez. Did you wake me up, Boo? Did I scare you?” There was a little light coming in from the streetlight outside and I could make out Boo’s shape in the bed next to me. I scratched the ruff around his neck and he head-butted my chest. “Sorry, Boo. It’s okay, just a bad dream. You may want to go home, you know. I get a lot of those.”
Boo head-butted me again and made a mournful little trilling sound.
“Yeah, Boo. It’s pretty sad, huh? Not much fun to sleep with. Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. If I ever did get that hot detective to notice me, it wouldn’t get very far. Nobody wants to sleep with someone who wakes up screaming or crying every few minutes.”
Boo made that trilling sound again and started rubbing on me. He head-butted my chin and it was strangely comforting.
“You’re so sweet, Boo. I wish I could keep you and you could be my kitty. Someone’s probably really missing you right now. But maybe you could stay a little longer, huh?”
Boo collapsed against me and started purring again.
“Good decision, Boo.”
Pancakes and Petreski
Boo was gone in the morning. I had expected that, but I missed him anyway and wondered whether he would come back. Last night was the best night’s sleep I’d had in a few days, and I had a feeling Boo was a contributing factor.
But a more pressing concern at the moment was that with all the excitement the last few days, I still hadn’t made it to the grocery store and I wanted pancakes for breakfast.
“Don?” I knocked on his door. “You up?”
I heard some shuffling noises, and then Don opened the door. He was dressed, but still looking bleary-eyed. Pre-coffee, then.
“I want pancakes.”
He blinked at me.
“Pancakes. I’m going to get some? Do you want to go?”
He scratched his chest and blinked again. “Yeah. Okay. Where?”
I knew he was asking because he wanted to go somewhere walking distance. He didn’t have a car, and didn’t like my driving. I didn’t blame him. The only thing worse than my driving is my parking. He probably wanted to bring Bridger, too, which meant someplace with a patio. “Onion Creek?”
“Give me a second.” He left the door open, and I watched while he set up the baby sling – I guess I should start calling it the cat sling – and got Bridger settled into it. He tucked one of the catnip toys in there and stuffed his wallet into his pocket.
“What are you going to do when he’s too big for the sling?” I asked as we started walking.
“Even full-grown he won’t be bigger than a baby. But I’ve also been thinking about training him to walk on a leash.”
“You can do that with cats?”
“Yeah. Need to start him young, though. You seem more with it this morning.”
“Finally got a decent night’s sleep.”
“No dreams?”
“One, but Boo woke me up and we cuddled and I didn’t have any more.”
“Boo? The cat? He stayed?”
“Yeah. But I left a window open and he was gone when I woke up this morning.”
“Don’t feed him or he’ll never leave.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You’re totally thinking about feeding him now, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. We had reached the intersection and I pushed the button for the walk signal.
“You said it yourself, he’s not your cat.”
The little man lit up and we started crossing the street.
“Jake...”
“I’m not going to feed him, but I can think about it. It just felt so good having him there.”
“Maybe you should get a cat, then?”
“I’ll think about it.” But I didn’t think that was the answer. Not exactly. I didn’t tell Don I had left the window open, in case Boo came back. I hoped the squirrel didn’t decide to explore the great indoors while I was out, but that didn’t seem like his style.
Don settled at a table on the patio while I went inside to place our orders. When I came back out with our coffee there was a girl leaning over his chair, cooing over Bridger, so I hung back for a minute. When she headed back to her own table and her three giggling friends I rolled my eyes and recla
imed my seat.
“That kitten is a total chick magnet.”
“I can’t afford to date right now, you know that.”
“Geez, when girls see that furry little face and find out he’s only got three legs, they’ll be buying you dinner. Girls love that stuff.”
“Since when are you an expert on women?”
“I’m an observer of the human condition.”
“Yeah? Observe this.” He picked up his coffee mug with his middle finger extended.
“Very classy.”
We were making good headway on our pancakes when a shadow fell across the table. I raised my head and almost choked when I saw Detective Petreski looking down at us.
“Gentlemen,” he drawled as he pulled out a chair and sat, unbuttoning his suit jacket. I caught a glimpse of the shoulder holster he wore, and suppressed a shudder. I hated guns, but for some reason the thought of the leather holster under that stylish jacket was turning my crank.
We sat, looking at him but not saying anything. Don chewed, and I took a sip of coffee. Why was he here? Sitting with us? Bridger chose that moment to stir, sticking his head out and yawning. Detective Petreski looked down at the kitten, and Don broke the silence.
“It’s a pet-friendly patio.”
“I told you yesterday, I’m not going to bust your chops over a kitten. Especially not one with ‘special needs’.”
Was it my imagination, or did he seem a little friendlier today? Maybe he was a cat lover? I looked around, but didn’t see Perez anywhere.
“We need to talk,” he said after a minute.
“About what?” I finally found my voice.
He turned to look at me, and I forced myself to sit still under that bright green gaze.
“A variety of things. First of all, why didn’t you tell us that Thomas Wilton is a classmate of yours?”
“Thomas Wilton?”
“Clarence Wilton’s son. You have a class together. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I didn’t know. I don’t know him. What class?”
“American History.”
“Geez. That’s a huge class, I don’t know everyone in there. That must be why he looked familiar. I couldn’t place him, though. I wasn’t hiding anything, I swear.”
He kept looking at me, and it was on the verge of feeling awkward when he nodded and turned to Don.
“Mister Olson, may I ask how you acquired your feline companion?”
“Huh?”
“He wants to know how you got Bridger.”
“Yes, thank you, I knew what he meant.” Don looked at me for a minute, and I shrugged. The crazy might as well get out there – either Petreski could handle it or not.
“We found him,” Don said.
“Where? And how?”
“The old trestle bridge over the bayou. The bike path. Someone, we think maybe some kids, had put him in a bag and hung it from the bridge. They just...” Don pressed Bridger against his chest. “They just left him there, scared and alone.”
Petreski’s jaw was tight, his lips pressed in a thin line. I wouldn’t want to be one of those kids if Petreski ever caught up with them. “When was this?”
“Tuesday morning.”
“That makes two mornings in a row you made grim discoveries along the bayou.”
“Bridger had a better ending,” I said.
“Yes,” Petreski turned to me. “But what I’m wondering is, what led you to discover the kitten in the first place. Is the bridge a regular walk for you?”
Don and I looked at each other.
“No,” I answered.
“Jake had a dream.”
I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see Petreski’s face when he decided I was some kind of nut case.
“What kind of dream?”
“A bad one,” I answered, not opening my eyes.
“He dreamed he was a werewolf.”
“What is it with you and werewolves?” Petreski asked.
“There’s no such thing as werewolves,” I said, surprising them both into silence.
Don was the first to recover. “Then why...?”
I opened my eyes. “Because joking about something so... out there... was easier than admitting that something really weird was happening. That maybe I really was losing it.”
“You’re not losing it.”
I turned to Petreski. “How can you be so sure?”
“I know what losing it looks like - I see it often enough in my work. I don’t know what is going on, but you’re not losing it.”
“I think he’s a psychic.”
Petreski and I turned to look at Don. “What?” he said, looking back and forth between us.
“Tell me about this dream,” Petreski said, turning back to me.
“Tell him, Jake.”
It’s a hard thing to do, spilling your guts about your special kind of crazy to someone you barely know – especially when you’re attracted to them and want them to think you’re amazing. I had to give him credit, though. He didn’t bat an eye, and he didn’t act like I was a lunatic. He wanted us to show him where we found Bridger, but he let us finish our breakfast first. All in all, he was pretty cool about the whole thing, which didn’t help cure my crush and I’m sure Don despaired for the future state of my heart.
We were standing on the trestle bridge, looking east towards where Wilton had been found. Don had taken Bridger onto the grass to let him stretch his legs and see if he needed to pee. Petreski turned to watch Bridger hop around in the weeds. “That is one very lucky kitten.”
“Don is besotted,” I said, looking along the edge of the bayou to see if there were any birds today.
“Tell me about Wilton.”
“You’ve seen my statement, right?”
“Yeah, but tell me what’s not in your statement. It was another dream, right? Like the one that brought you here?”
I nodded, feeling queasy again as I remembered how I felt coming out of that dream. “Only, like, a hundred times worse.”
“Tell me.”
I told him everything I could remember, even about throwing up. He was silent when I finished, his gaze fixed in the distance.
“Am I in trouble? For not putting this in my statement? I mean, it makes me look crazy, right? Or guilty? Crazy is better, I guess, but –”
He silenced me with a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.” He let go of my shoulder and turned back to look out over the bayou again. “I get it. Look, Mr. Hillebrand... Jake?” I nodded. “I have a higher tolerance for... the unusual... than some of my colleagues, but even I might have found it suspicious without some context.”
“Context?”
“Just don’t talk to anyone else about this for now, okay?”
“Okay. Sure.” I turned to see Don walking towards us, Bridger back in his sling with his head sticking out, gaze fixed on Petreski.
“Hey, little guy,” Petreski said, reaching out to scratch Bridger’s head with one finger. Bridger turned to rub his face on it, and Petreski chuckled when Bridger started licking with his tiny pink tongue. “They’re so cute at this age.”
“They’re nice when they’re older, too,” I said, thinking of Boo.
Petreski turned to me and smiled. “Yes. Yes they are. Gentlemen, I need to get going. Are you okay to get home?”
We nodded and he left us there on the bridge. I watched him walk away, admiring the way he moved until Don elbowed me. I really needed to break him of that habit; I was starting to get bruises.
“Ow. What?”
“Stop ogling the detective.”
“I wasn’t ogling,” I lied.
“Come on, let’s head home. Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”
“Yeah, okay.” I let Don lead me home, but I was still thinking about Petreski, and about how, maybe, he didn’t think I was crazy.
❧
I spent most of the afternoon studying. I was kind of
stressed out about my history midterm, so Don didn’t ask me to watch Bridger while he went to work. Seriously, he’s a cat, he doesn’t need babysitting. I toyed with the idea of taking my books and laptop over to Ground Up for a while that afternoon, but I remembered what Harry had said about Josh Katz being an afternoon regular and I didn’t want to bump into him.
I managed to put together a sad little bachelor meal from the bits and pieces in my kitchen, then took a long, hot shower. I had left a window open all day, just in case, but it turned out Boo was a more formal kind of cat. A little after nine I heard a scratching sound and a black paw curled under the door, announcing Boo’s presence.
It was ridiculous to be so happy to see a cat – especially someone else’s cat – but I rushed to open the door and scoop him up.
“Boo! You came back!” I buried my face in his neck and he purred like he was happy to see me, too.
I closed and locked the door without putting him down.
“Don’t worry, Boo. The window is open in case you need to leave. Ooh, you smell so good!”
Boo wiggled a little and I put him down on the sofa.
“I’ve got to make it an early night, Boo. Not a lot of time to visit today. I have an exam tomorrow. Yeah, I know, what’s an exam, right? It’s okay, Boo-Boo Kitty.” I reached over to rub his ears. “You don’t need to know.”
“I’m going to fix you a bowl of water, okay? But Don says I’d better not feed you or you’ll never leave. Is that true?” I sighed and leaned over to kiss the top of his silky head. “Because if it’s true I sure would be tempted to try it.”
I put the bowl of water on the floor in the kitchen and started getting ready for bed. Boo watched me from his perch on the back of the sofa until I climbed into bed, and then trotted over to join me.
“So what’s the deal, huh Boo? You don’t like sleeping alone?” I rubbed him until he was stretched out long, and I could feel the vibration of his purring. “That’s cool. Okay, hopefully I’ll get a good night’s sleep again, ’cause I’ve got a big exam tomorrow. Yeah – history, not my best subject. Get this, Boo. Turns out there’s a guy in my class who is the son of a guy who was murdered the other day and... wait for it... I found the body. Yeah, I know. Pretty crazy, huh?”
Not a Werewolf Page 5