So I realized I made a mistake in the last chapter. I wrote "Chicago" instead of "D.C." For the purposes of this story, Mark moved to Washington, D.C. That's where NASA headquarters are, and it makes sense to me that Mark would move there to be close to his job and stuff. I've changed it in chapter six, so that's done. This cat story is apparently going to span several chapters, initially. Expect at least one more in this arc, but be rest assured that he won't be going away after that.
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Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the concepts.
The cat was staring at me again. I knew, because I was staring at it, too. We had kind of a face off going on. I was sitting on a bar stool at the counter in my kitchen, and it was sitting in the middle of the living room with a self satisfied smirk on its face. I wasn't previously aware that cats could smirk, but let me tell you-they do.
"I don't want a cat," I told it. "I'm a dog person."
The cat didn't reply. Thank god. I don't know what I would do if the cat started talking back. Bad enough that I had a one way conversation going on. The landlady was right, though, it needed a bath. I could at least do that much before taking it to a shelter.
I spent the next five minutes searching the internet to figure out if I could use human shampoo on cats. Short answer? Not recommended.
Okay. So. Here I was with a cat who was in need of a bath and probably food and who-knew-what vaccines-if I got rabies and died I was going to be so pissed-and here I was, knowing nothing about cats. I'd had dogs since I was five, and I figured that they couldn't be that different, but I didn't want to take any chances. For one, I thought cats hated water. How was I supposed to give it a bath without losing an eye or some vital organ? There was only one solution. I picked up my phone and dialed.
"Hello?" said the voice on the other end of the line after the fourth ring.
"Hey, it's Mark Watney. I, uh, could use some assistance. Advice, really. Are you busy?"
There was a pause, as if she was trying to determine if I was pulling her leg.
"Are you serious?"
"Very," I said.
"Fine," she sighed, "I'll be over in like, fifteen minutes." She hung up before I could answer. It was my turn to sigh.
Mindy Park was on her way to save my sorry butt once again.
The knock on my door came approximately sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds later. Not that I was counting. I had spent the time carefully skirting the cat in the middle of my living room in order to make the place a little more presentable. It wasn't hard-I don't own a bunch of stuff. Most of what I brought was either clothing or books. I had a couch, a t.v., and a bed in the way of furniture.
The light rap had me at the door in an instant. I opened it to find Mindy standing there with her arms crossed, dressed in faded jeans and a NASA hoodie. Her short blond hair was pulled into some approximation of a ponytail, with loose strands escaping to frame her face. She looked grumpy.
"What's the problem, Mark?" I moved aside as she breezed into the apartment, pushing her glasses up her nose as she went. I wordlessly pointed to the cat in the middle of the room. It had perked its ears up at the sound of the door and another human, and was currently flicking its tail and staring at Mindy and not me, for a change.
The change was abrupt and startling, at least for me.
"Oh, hello, pretty kitty!" Mindy crouched down and held out her hand to the cat.
"I wouldn't bother, it doesn't listen well-" I started, but the cat walked right over to investigate her outstretched hand. Figures. After a cursory sniff, it started rubbing all over her while she made cooing noises at it. I could hear the purring from where I was standing, although whether that was from Mindy or the cat I couldn't tell.
I sighed. Again. But that was why I called her in the first place-Mindy Park, resident cat whisperer.
"Where'd you find this guy?" She asked, still focusing most of her attention on the cat. I gave her the rundown of my morning.
"Have you thought of a name for him?" She asked. Apparently it was a him. Okay then. I stared at her.
"No, because I'm not keeping him. I just need help giving him a bath and finding a no-kill shelter. I figured you'd know some." There was no way the cat was staying. Mindy twisted around and narrowed her eyes at me.
"Watney. The cat chose you. It's fate-give it up. You're his human now." The scary part was, I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. I didn't think she was.
"I've never had a cat. I don't even like cats!" I protested.
"How do you know?" She refuted. "You've never had one."
I didn't have anything to say to that.
"Come on," Mindy ordered, rising from her crouched position after giving the cat one last pat. "We have some supplies to shop for."
I really shouldn't have been surprised that Mindy had a cat carrier in the trunk of her car.
"Why do you have a cat carrier?" I asked her after she'd run down to get it. "I didn't tell you it was a cat."
"He," she corrected, "and I always carry this. Just in case."
"In case what?"
"In case I find a cat," She rolled her eyes. "Duh." Sometimes I wasn't sure why I bothered opening my mouth. Obviously the ways of cat people were foreign to me. Was I, too, going to start carrying random cat paraphernalia around in my car?
The cat was somewhat reluctant to actually get in the crate, but Mindy finally coaxed it-him! Why was that so hard to remember?-in with a combination of reassurance and a gentle nudge. She latched the door and handed the carrier to me.
"I have to hold it?"
"It's your cat. And besides, I'm driving."
"What, you don't trust my driving?" I snarked.
"I don't trust anyone's driving in D.C. except my own. They're all idiots."
She wasn't wrong. The problem was that she may trust her own driving, but I didn't. The next ten minutes were spent clutching the cat carrier until my knuckles turned white and trying not to scream like a little girl, only more high pitched. Mindy glanced at me while we were stopped at a red light.
"You haven't been here long, obviously." She looked amused. I'm glad the kamikaze driver was amused.
"This is day four," I managed, "and right now I want to run back to Illinois where there are less cars and angry people." The cat meowed from inside the box, like he was agreeing with me. Maybe we'd get along after all.
"You'll get used to it," she said as a car honked immediately after the light turned green. "D.C. is actually kind of nice after you get past the layer of gritty humanity to the creamy urban core."
I eyed her. "That was a really weird cross between travel guide and psycho chocolatier."
"I'm still recovering from a twenty-four hour shift in SatCon. I'm surprised anything I say is making sense."
"Did I wake you up?" I asked, frowning. I was going to feel really guilty if I'd interrupted her sleep schedule for a cat.
"Nah. I try to keep a normal person schedule on my days off. Napped this morning, sleep tonight."
"How's the job going?" I felt like I should ask, as I'd personally screwed up her life for a while.
"Fine," she said, "now that I no longer have to monitor your every move. Although you still keep popping up."
"Talent of mine."
Then we were almost sideswiped by a bus and I tried to become one with the seat again as Mindy yelled obscenities at the driver.
I just about dropped down and kissed the ground when we got to Petsmart. Mindy rolled her eyes when I fell out of the car.
"You've been on spaceships that go way faster and are more dangerous than a ride through D.C. Stop being a baby."
"At least going to Mars if I'd have died it would have been meaningful. There's nothing meaningful about expiring in a fiery explosion in front of the subway entrance." I pulled myself up and headed towards the store.
"Mark."
"What?" I turned. She was still standing by the car.
"You forgot the cat."
"Oh. Right."
"Also, put this on." She threw something at me, and I managed to catch it awkwardly with one hand. It was a knit grey beanie. I frowned.
"Why do I need to wear this?"
"It's a disguise, Mr. Recognizable." She quirked an eyebrow at me. "You want people staring at the puppies or you?"
"Point." I pulled the hat on. It was cold enough that it wasn't annoying.
The inside of the store was slightly overwhelming, what with the people and the bright colors and the screeching birds. Mindy pulled me past the furry animals in small glass cages and the wire ones full of parakeets and other assorted small birds. We ended up in a section labeled "Cats" in a colorful banner.
"What do cats even need?" I wondered out loud.
"Litter box, litter, food, bowls, shampoo, collar, cat toys," Mindy listed off rapid fire. She'd grabbed one of those short, two-level carts that were much easier to maneuver. The first aisle had litter and stuff. I eyed the shelves full of different types and brands with trepidation.
"Why are there so many? All they do is poop in it." This was going to be more complicated than I had thought. Mindy snorted.
"You really are kind of clueless. Don't look so freaked out, I got this." She grabbed a bag from one of the shelves. "This is the one I prefer. Keeps the smell down."
"Hallelujah," I said, deadpan. Next into the cart went a scooper and a box.
The food aisle was just as ridiculous. Mindy stacked some cans of wet food and a small bag of dry mix in the cart, explaining that it was best to give a cat one in the morning and the other at night. I tried to listen, but most of it went over my head. Maybe I could have her write down instructions. She was obviously in her element picking out things for my cat.
We walked down the aisle with collars.
"Why do they have leashes for cats?" I asked. "Who walks their cat?"
"You'd be surprised, she said, "but I don't think you need to worry about that. We just need a collar. What color do you want?"
I was beginning to feel like one of those little dogs whose eyes bug out of their heads. Not the most flattering comparison, but probably accurate. "You pick."
Mindy pulled an orange nylon collar off the rack. "How about this one?" She dangled it in front of the cat carrier, which I was still carrying. A small grey paw darted out of the bars and swiped at it.
"That looks like approval to me," I said. So it was decided. We gathered the rest of what we needed and made our way to the checkout. The cashier, a cheerful blonde who couldn't have been more than seventeen, proclaimed that the cat was the most adorable thing she'd seen all day.
"He'll look so cute in your guy's Christmas cards!" She said while scanning our items. There was a beat when both of us were confused. Then Mindy started snickering.
"Um, actually he's my cat," I told the cashier. She nodded sagely.
"I'm sure he'll warm up to you eventually," she told Mindy. "My cat didn't like my boyfriend at first, but after a couple weeks they became best friends."
I stared at the conveyer belt, willing it to move faster. It didn't. I was never going to live this down. Mindy seemed to think it was hilarious. She even asked about the cashier's cat versus the boyfriend.
Finally we escaped. Mindy was still snickering as we walked outside.
"I'm glad you think that was funny."
"Lighten up. It is funny."
"And you're loopy from sleep deprivation," I accused. She laughed again, pushing her hair out of her face.
"That just makes it even funnier," she said. "But that's nothing to what's next."
I had a bad feeling about this.
"What do you mean?" I asked warily. She gave me an evil grin while putting the car in gear.
"You get to bathe the cat."
Oh boy.