InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "A high-functioning sociopath"

ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ (arcane) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2017-10-25 06:34:00

Entry tags:

bastet, sigyn

here kitty, kitty
Who: Max and James
What: James acquires a kitteh
Where: National Cat Protection Society
When: Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Max loved her job. She loved dressing up and guarding the rich and famous, tasting a bit of their lives for a few hours while she made sure they could do so safely. But when she came to the shelter and interacted with the cats waiting for homes...this was what made her feel complete. This was what she was meant to do, she felt that in her heart. She’d come a long way from her days in the army, come from combat to kittens, and she wouldn’t ever go back.

Today she was watching over a new mother and her kittens, making her comfortable and making sure each of the kittens was healthy and getting enough milk from mommy. The cuteness was off the charts for her, and she could feel her heart filled to bursting as she helped the new mom adapt, stroking the top of her head as she nursed.

“Max?” one of the other volunteers called to her, forcing her to look up. “There’s someone here to see you; he says he’s your neighbour…” Max’s brows rose, and she got up from the floor with a smile. “Could you take over for me, Sherri?” she asked, and the other woman nodded, kneeling by the enclosure as Max headed out to greet her visitor.

She smiled widely when she saw him, pleasantly surprised. “You came!” she greeted happily.

And surprisingly so, yes, that neighbour had come. The more James thought of it, the more he realised that it was a good time to find himself a furry companion - he’d always had a soft spot for animals and, if he could simultaneously save a life and help out the shelter at the same time, then all the better. Now the problem was just leaving with only one new pet, and not taking them all.

“Aye, I did,” he grinned crookedly at Max, fingers scratching his scruffy cheek. He’d made sure to come on one of her volunteer days - and to the right shelter, though she’d slid the info under his door and he had it pinned to his fridge. “Ready to find my new best cat friend. Likely the oldest, fattest one - but I’ll let you show me which ones most need a home.” Kittens would get adopted easily, but the more senior cats? Probably not.

Max’s face lit up, “we do have several senior cats looking for homes,” she said, pulling a clipboard off of the front desk and adding an application form to it. “I’m surprised; most people prefer a younger cat because they’ll be with them longer, but senior cats need love too!” She grabbed a pen and then escorted him through the doors to the actual shelter.

Walls were lined with cages, each one a temporary home to one of their residents. It killed her a little inside to see them confined like this, but she knew that it was ultimately for their own protection. Cats don’t do well with other cats unless they were properly introduced first, and this nice quiet sanctuary could turn into a battle royal if they let them all out at once.

She smiled at a few of the other volunteers, and then escorted James towards a few of the cages near the back of the room. “Okay, so here we are,” she said, stopping in front of a few of the cages. “Here is Jojo, Rusty, Katie, and Cheeto,” she said, pointing to each cage as she said the name. “Cheeto’s been here the longest,” she said with a sad smile, crouching down by his cage and trying to get his attention, slowly blinking her eyes at him. He looked up at her from where he was curled up at the back of his cage, mistrustful eyes peering over mounds of ginger fluff, and then slowly blinked back.

“He’s the least social of all of them, because he doesn’t trust easily, so we’ve been having trouble getting anyone to bond with him, but he’s a real sweetheart once he knows you.”

Bloody hell, his name was Cheeto? That just sealed the deal right there. Plus, that was the grumpiest looking cat James had ever seen - his squished, pinched face and sort of pug nose with whiskers. All of it reminded him of the Garfield cartoons he would read when he was younger.

“He’s got the same colouring as our Dear Leader,” he quipped, referring to Agent Orange in the adult daycare known as The White House. “Not to worry, love, I’m good with creatures who don’t trust easily.” It was true - he had sort of an affinity for coaxing people and perhaps animals out of their shells, and away from the barbed wire they used to guard themselves.

Maybe it was the psychiatry training. And overall, James did have faith in humanity. He tried to remember that whenever possible. “Can I meet this one?”

Delighted, Max nodded and carefully opened his cage. “Hey sweetie,” she cooed at him, “someone’s here to see you, you wanna come out for a little bit?” Her voice seemed to soothe him and he moved, creeping towards the door so they could see him better and tilting his head up to look at James.

“Do you know about the ‘kitty I-love-you’?” she asked James. “It’s a way to show them in their language that you mean no harm. Just relax your face and look in his eyes, then blink slowly. If he does it back, that’s a great sign.” She was an eager student of the cat behaviourist Jackson Galaxy, and learned a lot of what she knows about cat behaviour from his books and videos. Now she happily passed it onto clients who came in looking for companions. But funnily enough, much of what she’d learned from him she seemed to already instinctively know; it just made her happy to know that she was doing it right.

Needless to say, James hadn’t heard of that - he was no feline expert - but he was willing to give it a shot. “Their language?” he lifted an eyebrow curiously. Not the strangest concept - after all, he apparently had a goddess hanging about in his psyche, so cat language he could handle. “Alright, well, let’s see...”

He ducked a bit to get on level with the furball in the cage, watching him and meeting those butterscotch eyes - what a sweet, fat thing he was. “‘ello Cheeto,” he said to the cat, making a note to not blink rapidly - though it wasn’t like he thought much about his own blinking. Still, he could follow instructions.

“If you come home with me, it’s all the Fancy Feast you can handle. A nice scratching post too. Some catnip. What do you say?” Cheeto watched him curiously, listening to the soft voice of the new human, and blinked slowly back at him. Max beamed, her heart leaping in her chest at the success.

“Ohh, good boy, Cheeto,” she cooed, reaching into his enclosure, first letting him sniff her hand and then petting the top of his head and under his chin. When she thought he’d let her, she reached her other arm in and gently pulled him out, a soft ‘mrroww’ of protest from the kitty, but he didn’t try to get away from her. She held him for a bit, supporting his bum with her arm and then letting him down onto the floor. They were in an enclosed space with no hiding spots, so there was nowhere to scamper off to, but instead of bolting, Cheeto stepped up to James and started sniffing his pant leg.

“He is a good boy, isn’t he?” James grinned, crouching to better greet the now-freed Cheeto (who probably wanted to stick his face in the nearest bowl of food). “I think we’re going to get along just fine.” He let the cat sniff him, and reached over to scratch under that chinny-chin-chin; the minimal feline knowledge he had was that this felt good to cats, since their sandpaper tongues couldn’t reach this area while grooming.

Also pheromones? Something like that. It was a way to bond, to get the cat’s scent on him so Cheeto would remember and hopefully feel comforted knowing this was one of his people. “I presume there’s an application and an adoption fee?” he asked Max. She’d mentioned all the cats here were fixed and healthy, so, it was just a matter of finding the right home.

Max watched happily as Cheeto seemed to take to James right away. It took her a second to snap out of it and listen to his adoption questions. “Uhh yeah,” she said, just remembering the clipboard she’d brought with her and unhooking it from in front of Cheeto’s cage. “There’s a form to fill out, mostly personal information and releases so you understand your job as a cat guardian,” she said. She refused to use the word ‘owner’; cats weren’t property, in her eyes. They were companions. “His adoption price is $75.00, and you’ll need a carrier to take him home in.” She paused and quickly went through a mental checklist. “Do you have food and a litter box already? We have some of that stuff, or there’s a pet store down the street,” she said helpfully.

“I’ve got a carrier in the car, so I can go get it,” James said - ah, yes, and there came the ‘I’m going to rub my body all over your trousers so my scent gets on you’ behaviour, so it seemed like Cheeto wanted to stake his claim. “I’ve got everything else at home too - food, litter box, all that good stuff. I went shopping the day we met.”

Since he was so certain he was going to end up adopting a cat - there was no getting out of it. It was like Cheeto was meant for James.

But alright, after popping out to the car he was back in a moment later - with a nicely sized carrier for Cheeto the Orange to ride home in. Very soft, comfortable, and airline-approved; he’d spared no expense. “Seventy-five, I’ve got my card on me too,” he murmured, reaching for his wallet. Paranoia meant he preferred to pay more with cash these days - but he also didn’t enjoy carrying a bunch around with him, so, the brand new card in his actual name would have to do.

“Great!” she said after he came back. She took his ID and his credit card. “I'll get started on the paperwork and let you two have some time together. Here’s your form. I'll be back in a few minutes,” she said, handing him the clipboard and nodding happily to the other volunteer doing her cage checks. Then she turned and headed off to start the adoption documents.

The actual application didn’t take too long to fill out - name, address, whether or not he thoughts cat should be declawed (no, of course not! It was like cutting off a human’s fingers) and/or if he planned to sell the cat to the nearest Chinese restaurant, something like that. James finished quickly, and then he was free to bond some more with ~~Donald~~ Cheeto.

“You’re a smart cat, aren’t you?” he asked, bending to give him more scritches. But then Cheeto managed to heft his bum up onto James’ lap - amazing how well cats could jump, even when they were jumbo-sized - and settle there to sit all regal-like and grumpy.

Just sitting. Not making biscuits, not purring yet. But just sitting, expecting to be fawned over. Well, alright then. James would just be here waiting patiently until Max returned.

When she did, she stopped short in the doorway, just watching the two of them for a moment with a delighted smile. “Looks like you’ve been claimed,” she said once he noticed her, walking into the room with them and closing the door behind her. She handed him back his ID and credit card, and then showed him the little package of papers they had for him. “He’s yours now. Your receipt is in here, as well as his health records for whoever you choose as his vet,” she explained, placing them on the floor beside the carrier. “And if you ever need any help or advice, you know where I live,” she added with a little grin.

She stepped forward and let Cheeto smell her hand again, giving him more pets on his head. “I’ll miss you, little guy,” she said, her happy smile turning a little sad.

James filed his ID and credit card away, along with the papers he planned to carry home with him. Then it was time to place Cheeto into his carrier - it would be hit or miss if the cat yowled and cried in the car; he imagined that some were fine with riding, whereas some wanted to escape the moving death traps as soon as possible.

However, Cheeto seemed pretty stone-faced and chill. Cars were alright but forget to feed him one time? Then he’d piss on your shoes.

“Of course, you aren’t far at all,” James chuckled. “Feel free to come by anytime, love. I don’t mind the company and I’m sure Cheeto would love a visit too.”

Max smiled brightly at that, “I may take you up on that,” she beamed. “Goodbye, Cheeto, enjoy your forever home!” she said, giving him one last kiss on the head before he was placed in the carrier.