Day 17: Animal Shelter
To Start Anew, Get a Tabby
Dogen was going to have a pet for the first time. Compton's daughter had called him with the good news, informing him that Dogen hadn't blown up any heads at summer camp. While Dogen was going to return for the second summer session, she relayed to her father Dogen's sheer excitement about owning a little kitten for the first time. They were thinking of a calico with a calm demeanor, but the decision was still Dogen's to make when he came home from Whispering Rock.
At first, Compton tried to dissuade her. It sounded cruel, especially when his daughter rebuked him, but Dogen's blastokinesis was not refined in the slightest. Any change in his temper or increased stress could have sent the kitten's head shooting up in a torrent of blood. Although graphic, it hadn't been the first time Compton witnessed a headless cat, the death caused by his own mind, but she insisted, claiming it was a promise she made with Dogen that she intended to keep.
"I don't see why you're so worried, Boolie," Cassie said, setting her teacup on the saucer. "Your daughter seems assured in Dogen's abilities."
Compton massaged his temples, kicking his shorter legs underneath the table in her private quarters. "Oh, but you know my previously horrendous impulses, Cassie. Dogen is, well, he's like in a way that's, um…"
"More explosive?" she inquired with a raised brow.
He nodded gravely. Folding his hands on the table, the scent of their honeyed milk tea wafting around them, he sighed. "I'm sure he wouldn't have one with the magnitude of mine from those decades ago, but he's so young. Only nine, Cassie, yet incredibly strong. Like me, he wears that hat for a reason."
"It's happened to four people, right? But as your daughter said, he hasn't had recent setbacks. Even the traumatic experience with that bizarre dentist didn't set him off."
Compton furrowed his brow. "There will be more in the future."
She clicked her tongue and looped her fingers around the cup. "Well, that is a glass half-empty perspective."
A frown crossed his face. He thought Cassie would've understood. His track record with animals was abysmal, and in his nightmares, he still smelled their acrid blood strewn across the lab floor. He feared Dogen would experience the same horrifying scene of matted fur, shredded skulls, and wet brain matter clinging to his skin.
But when he raised his head, he found Cassie smiling at him. She rested her elbows on the table, tilting her head to one side, and she asked, "Boolie, you haven't had a pet in a while, right?"
He blinked, trying to think. "Um, yes? Yes."
"Then, why don't we get you a cat?"
He drew back, rounded shoulders hitching. He tried to muster a retort, but Cassie continued.
"That way, you can help Dogen raise his kitten properly. Show him the ropes of how to take care of it while also controlling his stress level." She smiled, her wrinkled lips raising. "It'll be a wonderful bonding experience for both of you, and I think it would do you good to have a pet of your own."
He sipped his tea, the milk too creamy for his liking. He swallowed it, then chased it down with another gulp. Buying time, he ruminated on her offer. While he loved animals, he was still recuperating from everything. From losing his friends for too many years to suddenly regaining them in a single day, the revelations that had followed left him thunderstruck during restless nights where he found comfort in Cassie's long, open arms.
But it would've been nice to have a constant critter companion. Harold was wonderful, but he belonged to Lili. The other animals tended to come and go as they pleased. And for Compton, who had suffered in solemn loneliness for years, he drew in a breath as he thought about running his fingers through the short soft fur of a cat loafed in his lap. It was unconditional love at its finest.
Cassie cupped his cheek. "Just think about it, Boolie. No need to rush when the summer is still young."
He took her hand before she could pull away, stubby fingers resting on her weathered skin. "No, no, I think - I think you're right. I'd like a cat."
That conversation led to Cassie and Compton standing outside of the nearest animal shelter. Compton fidgeted with his bowtie, tapping his toes in place. Beads of sweat dampened his brow. He wished he had brought a looser suit, but when Cassie patted his shoulder, he breathed out a sigh.
"Well, I suppose it's time," he said, rocking on his heels
"We can come back later. Dogen isn't home yet."
Compton shook his head, managing a small smile. He pushed open the door, the bell chiming overhead, as he and Cassie entered. He took immediate notice of the colorful atmosphere, sky blue walls and a muted green laminated floor. The animals were presently available in spacious play kennels with the expected toys, water and food bowls, and blankets where smaller dogs rested.
But what drew Compton in was the interconnecting holes in the far wall where the cats roamed through kennels. In their personal area, cats crawled over each other, groomed themselves, and scampered through the holes into the neighboring home. Compton crept toward them, their tranquil and playful natures soothing his apprehension. Their thoughts ebbed into his mind, warm and free, an improvement from the imprisoned animals he had rescued decades ago.
A few cats gazed at him through the windows. Blue, green, brown, and hazel eyes observed him. White, black, and colors in-between glossed their fur. As many inspected him, raising their paws to the glass, he smiled back, guilt briefly washing over him. He couldn't bring them all home, but he hoped others would take a chance on each of them one day.
And yet, Compton found a peculiarity. Nestled in the corner was a resting cat. It sat perfectly still. A short tail curled around its body. Patches of white fur spotted its brown coat. It blinked open eyes as dark as night. Noticing Compton, it yawned, revealing sharp fangs and a missing upper incisor. It lowered its head, pink nose sniffing, and it closed its eyes, tail swishing quietly.
"That one," came his immediate answer to Cassie's unspoken question.
Cassie grinned. "It seems like your type."
A volunteer brought out the cat after Compton requested it. She explained his name was Jamie, a seven-year-old calico and tabby mix. Compton felt him snuggle into his chest, ears twitching against his neck. Jamie slowly blinked at him, yawned again, and nodded off.
"Boolie, please, don't start crying," Cassie gently warned as tears lined his eyelids.
He sniffled and nodded, turning to the volunteer with unwavering confidence. "Jamie is coming home with me today."
The adoption paperwork was filled out, and in a blur, Jamie was fast asleep in his kennel while they walked outside. He occasionally chirped in his slumber. Compton was unable to stop smiling, Jamie's love already as palpable as the breeze. He imagined resting with him on the couch, scratching between his ears, earning purring like an engine in return.
"You know," Compton began, "I think Dogen will be fine. I'll be sure to help him when the summer ends."
Cassie chuckled. "He'll love the cat playdates."
Lifting the kennel to his eye level, Jamie whispered out a meow, and Compton envisioned Dogen giggling as his first kitten did the same, experiencing mutual bliss. "Yes. I'm more than certain he will," he murmured, and Jamie licked Compton's finger when he offered it.