Two days before Halloween, 2019
"Ouch!" Jamie Reagan yelped as he yanked the medical tape off his wrist and the bandage took a few hairs with it.
"How's it look?" Eddie Reagan stopped brushing her teeth to glance at her husband's arm.
Jamie examined the parallel cuts that stretched across his wrist. "Red and puffy. Like you'd expect scratches from a little infected demon spawn cat to look. Hand me the Neosporin."
Eddie lightly slapped her husband's arm before giving him the tube of antibacterial ointment. "Don't call Kiwi that. It's not her fault. You startled her."
"I startled her? How? All I did was walk into the room and cross her path. Is that why she cursed me? And two days before Halloween."
"Yes. No! Jamie, you need to consider it from Kiwi's perspective."
"I need to consider this from the cat's perspective," Jamie repeated as he smeared a liberal amount of Neosporin over his wrist.
"Yes, Jamie, the kitten's perspective. You probably remind her of the mean person who abused her. The veterinarian Witten took Kiwi to said she was super skittish around him, but not the female vet or the receptionist. So it's just men that she's scared of."
"Well, that will make it hard for that thing to be the station cat, wouldn't it?"
"Probably. Witten's going to keep her at home instead."
Jamie looked at the scratches again. "How did you two find that … cat… anyway?"
"Ki. Wi. Her name is Kiwi, and Witten and I found her when we were finishing our meal break today. I'd just tried to throw my trash in the garbage can when I saw her…"
==BB==BB==
The little kitten curled up against the brick at the entrance to the alleyway. She was cold, soaking wet but somehow still grimy, and so, so hungry. Up until a few days ago, she'd had a warm, clean place to stay, even if the person she lived with yelled mean things at her and occasionally took a kick in her direction. It was nothing like the first place she'd lived, with her mother and the rest of her litter. The rest of the kittens had all been adopted out, but no one wanted her; the one black cat in the group of calicos. The person had finally found her a home with a friend who 'wasn't a cat person' but wanted to move from friend to boyfriend, and saw taking in a kitten as a way to make that happen.
The kitten had quickly learned that people who "aren't cat people" shouldn't adopt kittens. Whenever she crossed his path, the man called her all kinds of names in an angry tone that made her fur stand on end. If she tried to rub on his ankles, to show him she wanted to like him, or if she just got in the way of where he wanted to go, he'd kick at her, and the ones that connected hurt. Then, a few days ago, she'd had one tiny little accident and hadn't quite made it to the litter box; she was still a little kitten, after all, and it was hard to climb over the sides of the box, especially when she needed to go. The man had yelled and screamed and kicked at her again, and then scooped her up and tossed her out the window. Fortunately, she'd managed to break her fall by bouncing off a fire escape and onto some cardboard containers, but she had no way to get back inside. So this cold, dirty alleyway had become her new home.
She eyed the round metal container on the sidewalk a few feet away. That bin had proven to be a source of some food; the people discarding bags of food scraps would sometimes miss the opening on top of the box. And here came another two people now. The nice kind of people – smaller, with higher pitched voices. Not like that bad person who liked to kick her around. One of the people threw a bag that smelled like food toward the round bin, and it bounced out of the top and fell to the ground. The kitten looked at the bag. It definitely had food in it, but it was so far away and she was so weak, she didn't know if she could make it the few feet to the bag. She stood up, staggered a step and fell back to the ground with a quiet mew.
And that's when something unexpected happened. The person leaned over to pick up the food bag, and looked right at her. 'Witten, look here!" she called, while reaching down to pick up the kitten. "Someone lost a kitten."
"Mew!" By which the kitten meant, not lost; threw away. But the person was gently feeling around its neck, looking for a collar that wasn't there.
"Poor thing's half-starved," the other person – Witten? - said. "And freezing."
"We gotta take it back to the house and take care of it," the first person said.
"Janko, you sure that's a good idea? The Sarge won't mind?"
"Of course not. He loves animals." Janko rooted around in the food bag she was still holding and pulled out a crust of bread. "Here, sweetie."
The kitten took a nibble of the bun. She'd have preferred the burger, but this bun had some yummy beef juice on it. All too soon, the bread was gone, and then Janko was carrying her to a car and carefully sitting down with her cradled in her arms. Finally warm and with a full tummy, the kitten dozed off as the car was driven somewhere. When she awoke, she was inside a building, and the two people were filling a sink with water.
"Here kitty, wake up. Time for a good bath," Witten was saying, while gently stoking her head. The kitten eyed the vessel of water. Bath? She didn't know what that was. Then Witten was carefully picking her up and lowering her into the water. "Janko, you have that shampoo?"
"Right here." Janko squirted some shampoo into her hand and rubbed it up and down the kitten's back. The kitten purred happily. Apparently 'bath' meant getting a nice petting in a warm environment, and getting all that itchy, icky smelling grime out of her fur.
"Look at all that dirt." Witten commented. "The poor thing's exhausted. She's almost falling asleep." She reached down and cradled the kitten's head in her hand to keep it out of the water, while rubbing the soap into the top of her head. The two kept scrubbing at the kitten until she felt cleaner than she ever had, and then they were drying her and brushing her.
"Aren't you the pretty one," Janko commented as she rubbed the kitten's head.
"I think she's solid black, except for that one little white line on top of her head," Witten commented. "Like light reflecting off a freshly-polished boot."
"That's what we should call her. Boot."
"Boot's a boy's name. I think Kiwi. Because you're shiny like the shoe polish," Witten cooed to the kitten. "And look at your eyes. Kiwi-colored."
"Knock-knock." A voice accompanied a light tapping on the door.
The kitten's ears perked up. That voice sounded like one of the bad people. The kitten tensed up, preparing to run away if necessary.
"Come in, Reagan," Janko called.
"Someone told me you two had a cat in here," the man said. "And you do."
"We do. And isn't she a beauty?" Janko asked. She picked up the kitten and held it out toward the new arrival. "Witten says we should call her Kiwi. Because she's as black and shiny as a polished boot."
"We don't need a cat at the house. Not unless the captain approves it first."
"Reagan, don't be such a hard-ass," Eddie whined to her husband. "Just hold her for a second."
The kitten watched warily as 'Reagan' reached out toward here. She didn't like this; not one bit. The man people were mean and hurt her and threw her out of her home. But not this time! She lashed out at the man, flailing her tiny claws about and hitting him several times on his hands and at least once somewhere on his face.
"Ahhh!" the man yelped and staggered backward, tripping into a locker and then falling sideways and against the bench. "Ow!"
Kiwi wiggled free of Reagan's hands as he fell and ran to hide under the nearest bench. She curled up into an angry ball of fur and hissed at Reagan.
"Jamie, what did you do to her?" Janko asked as she quickly checked her husband's injuries.
"Nothing! That little demon spawn went nuts," Jamie griped as he wrapped his right arm around his sore left side. "Think I broke a rib or something."
In the meantime, Witten was coaxing the kitten out from under the bench. "She's scared. It's okay, Kiwi," Witten cooed to the kitten. "Reagan's a good guy. Shhh. It's okay."
Kiwi took a few tentative steps toward Witten, while still eyeing Reagan warily. Maybe he was a good guy; despite her little freak-out, he wasn't cursing or kicking at her. She'd give him another chance.
==BB==BB==
"Well, that's so nice of Kiwi to give me another chance," Jamie griped as he swiped more Neosporin on the scratch along his jaw. "But I don't need to cross paths with her again and re-up the curse. Once is plenty."
"Jamie, Kiwi didn't curse you. She's the sweetest cat when she's not around men," Eddie argued. "And, do you know, in Japan, it's considered good romantic luck for a single woman to have a black cat?"
"Oh, so you're the expert on cat luck now?"
"Did some Googling on my phone."
"Well, good for Witten, then," Jamie griped. "But if that thing didn't curse me, how do you explain this?" Jamie raised his right wrist. "And this?" He pointed to his scratched jaw. "And this?" He lifted his shirt to show the bruises on his side from where he'd fallen hard against the locker room bench.
"One little accident doesn't a curse make," Eddie argued.
"What about the dent on my patrol car?"
"It's a big city. Traffic accidents happen. "
"And the coffee cup? And the coffee maker?"
"The cup's made of paper; holes happens sometimes. And if the coffee maker hadn't been broken, that coffee that spilled in your lap would have been a lot hotter. So that was really good luck. An anti-curse, maybe," Eddie argued.
"I looked like I peed my pants!" Jamie huffed.
Eddie tried to hide a smile. "Come on to bed. I'm sure tomorrow will be curse-free."
Part II: Or will it?
Author Note: FYI, black kitties aren't bad luck, and I'm sure Jamie knows that too when I'm not giving him a bad day. ;). I think they're beautiful and I'd adopt one if I wasn't super allergic to cats.