The Cat Question: Part Three
Puddy is based on my sister-in-law's cat. It's characteristics are exaggerated of course, but the basic elements…yeah. It was not a big fan of my brother. Thanks for the reviews, I'm glad you are enjoying it and that it's giving you a bit of a laugh!
Although apologies were given, no significant remorse was displayed by their eldest. If fact, over the last three days, one of the mothers would inevitably find three dark little heads bent in quiet conspiracy, only to be interrupted by peals of laughter as faux screams were emulated.
Stef looked at her children, then spun a chair and sat on it, bracing her forearms on the back as she cleared her throat significantly. Brandon looked up as he placed the rest of the Payday game pieces on the board from where he, Mariana, and Jesús were playing. "Yeah Mom?"
"We need to talk," Stef gave a jerk of her head to indicate the couch cushions in front of her.
The twins looked up curiously but at Stef's raised brow, turned back to the game. "We'll do your turn until you come back, Brandon," Jesús volunteered.
"You roll for me," mouthed Brandon to his sister. He was pretty sure Jesús would take advantage of the situation if he weren't there. Mariana nodded in response as she grabbed the dice from her twin.
Stef cleared her throat, "We need to talk about what happened," she began, knowing that he would understand what she was talking about.
Brandon pursed his lips and ran his hands up and down his jeans. "I told you Mom," he said, voice earnest. "After I saved the mouse from Puddy, I thought the poor thing might have PST-".
"PTSD," Stef interrupted dryly.
"Uh-huh," Brandon nodded angelically, "And I figured he'd need someone to talk to. Isn't that what pet psychics do?" This last part was said archly, searching his mother's eyes for the humor he'd seen glinting in them when she first heard of the situation.
Stef narrowed her eyes, "Brandon," she enquired mildly, "Do you really expect us to believe that?"
The little boy hesitated, then nodded somewhat uncertainly, "Yes?"
"Buddy," Stef said with great deliberation, "I am not the pet psychic," from her son's widening grin and the giggles from the twins, Stef realized instantly that she had made a mistake. "What I mean," she said rapidly, hoping Lena wouldn't get wind of this particular lapse, "Is that I know when you're lying, and I am not happy about it."
"Mom…"
"Mama is especially unhappy," Stef said, watching Brandon's face falter a moment. Lena, in fact, was not pleased at all and had voiced her feelings vociferously when she found Stef chuckling about it the other night. By the end of her speech, Stef was nodding, albeit reluctantly. Her lover's final, "Fix it," had indicated the level of her displeasure. "She thinks that you would benefit from the We Are Friends group at school."
The smile had completely disappeared from Brandon's face at the end of that sentence and he looked at her with consternation, "What?"
"Yes," said Stef, enjoying the quiet panic that was flitting across his face, "They work on kindness and empathy, from what I understand."
"Oh, I know those kids. They made friendship Cootie Catchers last week and if you chose an activity, that's the one they had to play with you," Jesús shot his brother an evil smile. He had thankfully dodged that bullet when it had been suggested for him last year.
"I know them too!" said Mariana, "They wore blue t-shirts on the first day of school that said, I am a great helper and it had big star on the front and on the back and they got to help all the teachers and kids and everyone."
It took nearly all of Stef's self-control not to laugh at the unmitigated horror on her eldest's face. Mariana was genuinely trying to help while Jesús was obviously intent on torturing his brother. Either way, it was absolutely perfect.
"Mom!" Brandon tugged sharply on her sleeve, bringing her attention back to him, "You can't do this to me."
"They work on positive behaviors," Stef rolled on, ignoring her son, "Maybe that would do you some good."
"Mom. Mommy. No," Brandon insisted. "Please don't make me go there."
"Why?" his mother asked, egging him on.
"The kids…the kids…they can – like - only speak in I-messages."
Stef began to smirk, "So?"
"They have to give….put-ups to all the other kids in the group. At the beginning and end of every session," Brandon's voice grew a little more frantic.
"Sounds…very positive," said Stef, her smile growing wider.
"Mommy. They sing."
"You like music."
"Not Free to Be You and Me!" Brandon hopped onto her lap to face her, eyes serious. "Mommy, I promise…promise I won't do that again. Just…please don't make me go! You can ground me for another week or anything but please, please not that!"
Stef sighed theatrically and moved until they were forehead to forehead. "I don't know buddy, I think that's up to Mama now."
He looked at her helplessly for a millisecond then bellowed, "MAMA!"
Stef winced, "Ow, bud. That was right in my ear." He ignored her as he scrambled out of her lap, continuing to yell for Lena as he ran up the stairs.
She was still chuckling as she plopped herself besides the twins. "I'll play for your brother," she told them, "He's going to be gone for awhile."
"What's wrong with Brandon?" asked Mariana, genuinely baffled.
"A little bit of motherly retribution," Stef sighed happily, as she rearranged her piles of money. "Did I ever tell you guys that your Mama is brilliant?"
"All the time," grumbled Jesús, turning back to the game.
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It wasn't the first mouse, or even the second mouse that bothered Stef, it was the fourth mouse that did it. She grabbed a pair of gloves and removed the mouse from its final resting place, wrapping it in a plastic bag and throwing it in the trash bin outside. "There was another one," she told her partner ominously after washing her hands and returning to the kitchen.
There was a slight hesitation, then Lena peeked at sidewise as she typed busily on her computer. "Another mouse?" she asked.
"Yes Lena, another mouse," Stef said, biting off the words as she leaned against the counter.
Another hesitation, "Was it, ummmmm, in the same place?"
"You mean was it on my nice, clean pillow? Yes, love, it was," Stef put her hands on her lips and glared at Lena, daring her to find a positive spin on this.
"You know," Lena began carefully, her fingers drumming out an erratic rhythm on the keyboard, "When a cat leaves dead animals it's a sign of affection and pride."
"Oh yeah?" said Stef, her voice a dangerous rumble.
"Uh-huh," said Lena bravely, ignoring the warning signs. "When I looked it up, the article said that cats bring home dead animals because they are hunters and are showing that they can take care of their family."
"Well, that's very interesting, Lena," said Stef in the same tone, her body language changing ever so slightly. "Did the article, perhaps mention why the cat would be leaving the dead animals on it's owner's pillow?"
"No," Lena faltered, finally daring to look up from her paperwork. "It-it didn't mention that kind of behavior at all."
"Well," said Stef with faux brightness, "It seems to me, even as unfamiliar as I am with the feline species…" Uh-oh, thought Lena as she noted the warning signs of an impending rant. "That if a creature is leaving dead animals on the pillow of the person of whom it despises, that it might be a threat."
Lena trotted out a smile, "Oh Stef," she said placatingly, "Puddy doesn't hate you."
"I'm sure that's what the Untouchables said when Capone was leaving horse heads in their beds," Stef snapped.
Lena frowned, "I think you're mixing up-",
Stef waved her hands. "You know what I mean."
"You sound like a crazy person," said Lena flatly, shutting her computer with a soft click. "I'm seriously thinking about consulting a psychiatrist. The cat is not out to get you."
"Oh really? Then maybe you haven't noticed, that in three of the four times I had these lovely little gifts you and I," she moved closer and lowered her voice suddenly, furtively looking around, "Were planning on being…intimate," she finished in a whisper.
Lena closed her eyes in supplication, then her brow furrowed, she opened her eyes, "Were we really…"
"Uh-huh."
"Every time that he left a-"
"Yup."
"Well that's just –you must be mistaken. We must be forgetting something."
"We are not," said Stef with great dignity. I am getting p-"
"Don't you say that word," warned Lena, raising her eyebrow in warning. "I hate that word and you will not use it around me."
Stef's humor began breaking the surface of her irritation. "But the fact that it is happening because of an actual feline…is either humorous or some sort of karmic retribution. I haven't figured out which one yet."
Lena rubbed her forehead, then looked at her lover with determination. "Did you change the sheets?" she asked.
Stef looked offended, "Of course I changed the sheets I-"
Lena grabbed her hand and began pulling her up the stairs. "Lena, what are you – what are you doing?" Stef sputtered.
"Changing the pattern."
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"I've got you now, you little bastard," Stef said, holding the broom in a threatening manner. "Put down the mouse, or you are going to become the flattest kitty outside a cartoon character."
Even though his mouth was full, Puddy managed a pretty serious hiss. His green eyes sparkled with venom as they darted around, trying to find a way out of the corner he had been backed into.
"You are not leaving another mouse on my pillow," warned Stef with a serious swipe, "You drop that mouse now or I swear that I-" A small gasp interrupted her threat and she gave a quick glance, reluctantly, from her target. Her youngest son was watching her, eyes wide as he stuffed chips into in his mouth. "Jesús," asked Stef in exasperation, "Why aren't you in there," she gestured to the family room with her broom, "Watching TV with your brother and your sister?" She fixed her eyes back on to her nemesis.
She heard his footsteps as he padded a little further into the kitchen, "This is better then the TV, Mom!" he said with undisguised excitement, "You and Puddy are like the Roadrunner and the Coyote!"
Stef fumbled with the broom a moment, nearly dropping it. "The Coyote and the- " she frowned suspiciously, sparing another glance at her son, "Which one am I?"
Jesús giggled merrily and Stef spun suddenly, seeing the cat trying to make a break for it. "Oh no you don't!" she yelled, slamming the broom onto the floor where the cat had been a second ago. "Dammit," she swore, then corrected herself instantly, "Darn it!" She flew around the room making wild swings, one of them finally connecting. With a startled howl, Puddy dropped the mouse and scurried out of the kitchen, only pausing to give her a baleful look.
"You got it Mom!" said Jesús cheerfully. "Good job!"
"Thank you Jesús," said Stef wearily as she got a new bag to clean up the dead mouse.
"And you beat him, even without an Acme credit card," Jesús chirped as pieces of chips found their way to the floor.
"Uh-huh," said Stef. Apparently that answered the question of who she was in his little scenario. It was a comparison she didn't really appreciate.
"Puddy sure likes playing with you Mom," he continued enthusiastically, swinging his arms in ever widening circles. "I think you're his favorite person ever. He doesn't play with anyone else like he plays with you."
"Yeah," said Stef, tying the plastic bag with a firm knot, "We're real buddies."
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"Hey Jesús," said a sneering voice, "What've you got there, a wittle kitty?"
Jesús looked at the other boy calmly, "Yup," he said, stroking Puddy's back possessively.
"Aw, how cute," the other boy mocked, getting off of his bicycle and walking closer to the front yard. Jared had tried to pick on Jesús on many occasions, but he found, to his irritation, that Jesús always managed to turn the tables on him. Seeing him cuddled up with a cat though…that was an opportunity.
"Not really," Jesús turned back to Puddy, running a string under his paw. "My mom says Puddy is a demon."
"Wait – what?" asked Jared, stopping immediately.
"My mom says 'That the cat is a demon and must be from hell'," said Jesús coolly. "She said she's not sure if he's one of Satan's minions, or actually Satan himself. Either way," he shrugged, "It's pretty interesting."
"He doesn't do anything," scoffed the other boy, not taking a step further. "He's just a cat."
"Technically, he's a cat," said Jesús. He frowned at the contented feline, who had been purring nonstop since they had been playing, "Although technically he's a murderer too."
"What did you just say?" now Jared backed up a little, placing one hand on the handlebar of his ten speed.
"He's a serial killer. That's what Mom said. Mama said she was being ridiculous but that just made Mom sulky. I asked Brandon and he said technically Mom was right," he stroked Puddy's head and rubbed his furry ears. "But you're the cutest serial killer ever. Ever! Aren't you Puddy?" he said in his sweetest tones. The cat purred and placed a paw on Jesús's shoulder in a very human-like gesture.
Jared scoffed, then startled back suddenly as Puddy laid his ears back and hissed in a particularly ominous, sibilant tone. Jared jumped on his bike. "I'm outta here. Keep your freaky, demon cat away from me," he said over his shoulder.
"You're better then a watch dog," Jesús told Puddy with obvious pride, watching Jared pedal away. Puddy blinked with lazy affection that seemed to indicate that thinking otherwise was a mistake that you wouldn't make again.
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"No. No way."
"What?" Lena continued to peruse her book, not even glancing at her partner.
"The cat is on our bed. It doesn't get to be on our bed Lena, not ever," Stef didn't move from the doorway of their bedroom.
Lena sighed, not interrupting her ceaseless petting, "He's on my side, honey, and you weren't even here."
"I don't care," Stef folded her arms, trying to look fierce in her blue t-shirt and faded plaid pajama bottoms. "It's in our bed."
"C'mon Puddy," Lena said as she gathered the cat in her arms, "Mommy wants you out."
Stef's mouth dropped in affront. "I am not that thing's mother. We aren't doing that. We've got three, three kids. This thing does not count."
Puddy hissed, apparently sensing his least favorite human's vitriol. Stef hissed back. "That's very mature Stef," said Lena as she dropped Puddy on the floor.
"There's a cat in my bed," Stef mumbled, ruffling the sheets officiously as she plumped her pillow. She was mollified when Lena plunked her head onto her chest and snuggled into her side. "Much better," said Stef quietly, letting herself be soothed as she ran her fingers through her lover's hair and over her skin. She fell asleep to the sound of her partner's soft breathing.
A soft thump and hiss woke Stef from a particularly appealing dream featuring Lena, a bottle of chocolate sauce, and a paintbrush. "Ahhh!" she yelled as Puddy hissed in her face and tried to swipe at her with his claws. Without hesitation she knocked him off the bed. "Son of a bitch," she swore with great feeling.
"What happened, what happened?" Lena grabbed onto her.
"It's that damn cat. He pounced on me, like practically on my face," Stef sputtered as she threw back the covers.
Lena sat up blearily and reached over to turn on the light. They both blinked at the brightness. "Where, Stef? How? The door's closed. So is the window."
"It was just here Lena," Stef stumbled ungracefully out of the bed at began poking around the room. She opened the closet, no cat. She looked under the bed, no cat. She opened the door to the bathroom, no cat.
"Stef," Lena's voice was steady. "I don't think he's here."
"He was here Lena, I saw him. I am not imagining this."
"I'm not saying you did," Lena held her arms out invitingly. Stef ignored her, stubbornly turning about, trying to find any hidden corners the cat might be lurking. She heard Lena sigh, then pad over to join her, "Honey," Lena began.
Stef held out a hand in warning, "Don't start with me Lena. That cat is a demon, with some sort of…cloaking device."
"Sweetheart, I believe you. If you said Puddy was in our room, I believe you," the tone Lena was using was the one you might use on someone with a mental illness and it irritated Stef unspeakably.
"He was," she insisted.
"I'm sure of it," said Lena calmly. She reached over to grab Stef's chin, "I believe you Stef, I promise. We will figure this out later. Right now, we are going to bed."
"But he…," Stef trailed off, frowning, then rubbing her eyes tiredly. She let Lena lead her back to the bed and tuck her back under the covers, not relaxing until they were curled into one another again.
"What if he comes in here again?" Stef mumbled, plucking at the sheets with anxious fingers.
"Then you have my permission to make a rug out of him," said Lena matter-of-factly.
With that pleasant thought, Stef fell back asleep.
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Despite a delightful dream featuring a certain feline performing as a particularly fuzzy doormat, Stef woke up with a head of steam. Her dire implications muttered under the shower stream, while dressing, and even when brushing her teeth were both colorful and inventive.
Lena had nodded a lot, then after putting on her earrings, dragged her partner back to sit on the bed. "Stef," she said. "Do we need to get rid of the cat?"
Yes! screamed Stef inside of her head. Yesterday, preferably. She looked at her partner's dark eyes and sucked in a breath. Better person, better person, she needed to be the better person, she chanted to herself, seeing the barely covered disappointment there. Of course, in this case she was trying to be the better person over a cat, so she wasn't sure what kind of win that was. She chewed on her nail, and finally her gaze dropped, "No," she muttered. "But we need the ground rules to be more clear," she said.
"Okay," Lena squeezed both her hands in her own. "What are the rules?"
Stef looked at her a little suspiciously, was she being patronized? "First, no cat in our room. Not ever," she began.
"Okay," Lena nodded.
"Somebody else cleans up any dead animals or hairballs," Stef said. "Not me. Never me." She thought a moment, "Unless I'm the only one in the house," she added reluctantly. "I don't want that stuff laying around for any amount of time."
"Alright," said Lena, agreeing again with no resistance.
Stef closed her eyes, trying to think of anything else she wanted that didn't involved the cat gone or in some kind of permanent stasis. "I guess that's all," she said reluctantly, feeling as if she were forgetting something.
"Well if you think of anything else, it will get done," said Lena, giving her hands another squeeze and moving to get up.
Stef held onto them, and tugged Lena down until she was sitting in her lap. "Why am I getting to make all the rules?" she asked worriedly. "We never do things that way." She was unsettled by the change.
Lena chuckled a little, moving down to kiss Stef's forehead, nose, then lips. When she pulled away again, she stroked Stef's cheek. "I know what kind of concessions you are making honey," she informed her. "You never wanted the cat. You don't like the cat, and while you've been incredibly grumpy, you have tolerated it."
"Oh," said Stef softly.
"Besides," Lena said, straightening her shirt, "Puddy does seem to have some kind of vendetta against you."
"You finally believe me!" said Stef, amazed at her partner's sudden admission.
"Oh honey," Lena wrinkled her nose a little, as she kissed her once more, "That cat hates you."