Knitting Under the Influence

“I went around the whole block. I can't find him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Sari said. “But cats usually find their way home, don't they?”

“Big cats do,” Lucy said. “Big grown-up cats who've lived for a long time in one place and who have sharp claws and can defend themselves against any danger-they find their way home. But little tiny kittens who haven't even been in the world very long-”

“Don't start imagining the worst.”

“Too late.”

“Well, then, stop imagining the worst. I’m sure he'll come back.”

“Are you really sure or are you just trying to get me off the phone?”

“A little of both, actually,” Sari said. “I’m sorry, Lucy, but I’m overwhelmed with everything I have to do if I want to be able to leave tomorrow. I can't just disappear-I need to find replacements for all the kids I see. So I’m sort of losing my mind right now. But I honestly think David the kitten-being the most amazingly wonderful and brilliant kitten in the world-will find his way back to your side safe and sound before the end of the day.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Lucy said. “Go do your stuff. I’ll see you in the morning.” She hung up the phone and stared at it miserably for a minute. Then she got up off the bed and went through the apartment and opened the front door and called for David again. Then she went back into the apartment and called for him some more. Then she went out of the apartment and down the stairs to the street and called for him some more. Then she went back into the apartment and checked inside the stove and all the cabinets in the kitchen. Then she got out a suitcase and opened her underwear drawer and stared at its contents without seeing them for a minute or two. Then she got up and opened the front door and called for David.

“This is insane,” she said out loud. She picked up the phone again.

There was no answer at David's apartment, but she waited, knowing it would ring through to his cell. “Hey,” he said once it had, “what's up?”

“The kittens missing,” she said. “I can't find him anywhere. I think maybe he got out this morning, which means he's been gone for hours.”

“Oh, shit,” he said. Then, “Well, at least it's not dark. The coyotes shouldn't be out yet.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks for bringing up coyotes. Where are you?”

“Having coffee.”

“With someone?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” she said. “I was hoping-I mean, I was thinking-that maybe you could come help me look-but you're busy, so-”

“I’ll be there in ten,” he said and hung up.

It was closer to twenty, but Lucy didn't complain.

“I looked around the block,” David said as she let him in. “No surprise reappearance here, I assume?”

Lucy shook her head. She suddenly didn't trust herself to speak. At the sight of David's familiar, slightly homely face, she was overwhelmed with the desire to burst into tears. She fought it desperately. But it must have shown, because he said, “Don't worry, Lucy. He'll turn up. Cats have a way of being okay. This is where that whole nine lives thing really comes into play.”

Lucy nodded but couldn't manage a smile. “He's so little,” she said. “He's so little and I was responsible for him.”

“Come on.” He put his arms around her and she rested her head against his shoulder. “You're being silly. He's a cat. Cats always escape. And they always come back.”

“Unless a coyote gets them. Or a car hits them. Or-”

“Someone sells them to evil scientists to experiment on?”

She pushed him away. “That's not funny.”

“It's a little bit funny.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “No more jokes. Let's focus. Is your phone number on his ID tag?”

“He doesn't have one. I kept forgetting. I was at Petco a million times, but I just kept forgetting, but if I’d only just gotten him one… I’m such a fucking idiot!” And with that, she finally burst into the tears that had been threatening to break through for the last half hour.

“Come here.” David steered her to the sofa and pushed her down on it. Then he sat next to her and took her hand. “Take a deep breath, Lucy, and calm down. The guy's only been missing a few hours. Cats often vanish for days and then reappear. He's going to come back. But we might as well do what we can to help. Do you have any photos of him? We could put them up somewhere.”

“I didn't have any batteries in my camera,” Lucy said, extricating her hand so she could use her knuckle to wipe away the tears under her eyes. “I tried to take his picture-I wanted to-but I didn't have any batteries and I kept forgetting to get new ones.”

“You need some help running your life,” David said.

“I know,” she said with a sob.

“Whoa there,” David said. “I was joking. And this isn't even close to calming down.”

“I can't help it.”

“Come here,” he said, and pulled her so her face was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and she shoved her forehead hard into his shoulder and let herself go.

Interestingly, once she gave in to her tears, they didn't last all that long. She trembled and hiccupped and sniffed for a few minutes, while David rubbed her back and made soothing sounds. Even when the tears had stopped, she didn't move for a while, just stayed where she was, her cheek pressed against his shirt.

After a little while like that, she said, “I can hear your heart beat.”

“Interesting,” he said. “Would you say it's got a hip reggae kind of a beat?”

“It just sounds normal to me. Tha-boomp, tha-boomp.” A pause. Then: “I need a tissue.”

“You've been doing pretty well with my shirt up till now.”

“Sorry.” She righted herself, embarrassed. “Hold on. Let me go wash my face.”

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and toweled off. There was a bottle of suntan lotion on the vanity, and it occurred to her she shouldn't even go to Hawaii if David stayed missing-she'd need to stay and keep looking for him. And even if she did find him, she'd have to get someone to take care of him while she was gone. She hadn't even thought about that before. She was a bad, bad pet owner.

When she came back out, David was sitting at her computer. “I found a Web site about missing pets. They say the first thing you should do is check with all your neighbors.”

“I don't know my neighbors,” Lucy said. “I’ve never even met them. Oh, except for the time I yelled at the people downstairs for making too much noise.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Four years.”

David shook his head with a laugh. “You might want to work on your people skills, Lucy.”

“Do you think we should go talk to them?”

“It can't hurt.”

She liked that he didn't question her use of “we,” just stood up and joined her at the door.

“I know this may sound selfish at a time like this, but I’m really hungry,” David said when they returned to the apartment a while later, having checked in with all the neighbors who were home-no one had seen the cat-and searched around the block one more time. “How about we order in a pizza while we make some flyers? I can post them when I leave.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucy said. She felt disoriented and dazed. The sun was setting and she still hadn't found the cat and the thought of eventually trying to go to sleep for the night knowing he was out there alone somewhere-or dead somewhere-was so awful she couldn't even think about it.

“What kind do you like?” David asked.

“Kind?”

“Of pizza.”

“Oh. I don't care.”

“Is there something else you'd rather eat?”