As Pru and McKay peered inside the cage, the cat thrust a vicious-looking yellow paw between the bars of the front of the cage. They drew back, clutching each other.
McKay was nearly beside himself, trying not to laugh. “Wow,” he said, at last. “He is a beast, isn’t he?”
The cat gave a sudden leap, hitting the top of his container.
“It’s okay, boy,” said the kid soothingly. “You’re going home, now.”
“Wait a minute,” Pru said. But she’d already filled out the paperwork for the cat and paid for it—paid for it! Ninety-six dollars! The cat gave a low growl and hissed at her fiercely, before backing himself into an angry ball of fur in the farthest corner of his cage.
The kid said, “He’ll be okay once you get him home. They always do this in the carrier. They don’t like the movement. He’s just scared, is all. Aren’t you, boy?”
“Are you sure?” said Pru, uncertainly. “He looks dangerous.”
“No,” said the kid, very seriously. “He’s not dangerous. He’s not feral or anything.”
She looked at McKay. He had an index finger pressed to his lips, in an apparent attempt to stay straight-faced. “He’s not feral,” he repeated softly, his eyes shining with barely restrained glee.
“Okay,” said Pru. “But if he doesn’t calm down, you know, I might have to bring him back here.”
“No worries,” said the kid. He smiled at McKay.
On the way out they passed a father and a little girl with a small white kitten in her arms. As Pru walked by with the hissing, lurching cage, the girl’s daddy drew her back behind him, protectively.
Pru put the cage in the backseat of McKay’s car, then got into the front passenger seat. McKay was trying so hard not to laugh that his eyes watered with the effort. McKay wiped his eyes and then started the car. “You’re doing such a good thing!” he said. In the backseat, the cat, which had been silent, began to howl in despair. Pru turned toward McKay and stared at him, not saying a word. “I’m sure it’ll be fine!” he said, through tears.
McKay found a parking space outside her building and they brought the cat upstairs. Inside the apartment, they put the cage gently on the floor. As soon as McKay opened the door, the cat banged its way out of the cage and ran straight under the couch. There it stayed, staring out at them with fierce yellow eyes. Pru squeaked the squeaky toys and dangled the dangly toys. McKay tried to make helpful suggestions but Pru finally told him to leave.
The cat hid under the couch all day. It ignored the bowl of food Pru put out, and the little trail of “tempting kitty morsels” she’d made to help it find the litter box in the bathroom. Finally, she gave up, and sat at her desk for a while, trying to come up with a “look” McKay said she had to have for the “identity package” that Bill told her she had to have, to be a real consultant. After a few minutes, she got up and grabbed her swimming suit and gym bag. She was out the front door and pressing the button for the elevator before she remembered that she’d canceled her membership to the Y.
She could go back to change into her running things. But she didn’t want to run. She wanted to be immersed in a pool of water. She wanted to feel it under her, all around her, holding her up.
She thought about her pregnant doppelgänger, and the pool at the Sheraton. Would anybody care if she used it, just for a quick swim? It wasn’t like she’d be any trouble. She even had her own towel, in her gym bag. She could just pretend to be another hotel guest. When the elevator door opened she jumped in, excited by the prospect of having something new to do. It made her feel a little dangerous, a little bad, a little like the Artful Dodger, living by her wits alone.
WHEN SHE RETURNED FROM HER SWIM (NO ONE HAD SAID a word to her, and she’d had the Sheraton’s glorious outdoor pool all to herself!), there was still no sign of the cat. She thought he might have eaten some of the food in his bowl, but it was hard to tell.
There was no sound until four in the morning. At first she was scared, but then she remembered the cat. She staggered up out of bed and chased it into the other room, slamming the bedroom door between them. She fell back asleep, but in half an hour she awoke again. The cat was vigorously pawing at her bedroom door, making it rattle in its frame. Pru got up again and, in a sort of predawn haze, decided that a better place for the cat would be the bathroom. She managed to catch it after cornering it in the kitchen. She got a good swipe on the forearm for her efforts.
Just as she was beginning to drift off, the cat took up yowling again. It was an unearthly sound that reverberated against the porcelain tiling. Pru pulled the pillow over her head. The cat yowled for a bit more, then began flinging himself against the bathroom door. The door rattled in its frame, each time he threw his massive weight against it. It unnerved her so much that finally Pru got up and opened the bathroom door. The cat flew past her, straight to a spot under her bed where it was impossible to reach him. It wasn’t even five in the morning yet, too dark for a run, so she lay in bed awhile, cursing.
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