Author's notes:
Thank you for the lovely comments! You have no idea how much it means to me to know that you like my writing and look forward to the updates. :)
The illustration for this chapter you can either find on my DoodleAddicts account (…/vincentthecat/) or on the story Rooftops of New York that I post on Archive Of Our Own (VincentTheCat).
And now onto our duo's whereabouts:
Chapter 2 "Rookie's Mistake"
"Fear not, for I am with you;
from the east I will bring back your offspring,
from the west I will gather you."
Isaiah 43:5 (NABRE)
Looking around, Neal cannot spot anyone who could be the dog's owner. Now, that the chase is over, the only ones still paying attention to the Lab are the two pursuers. Seeing that Neal has stopped running away, the two men slowdown. Now instead of running, they are walking in Neal's direction. Although it makes them look less intimidating, it still does not change the fact that both men look quite angry. A bit too angry for Neal's comfort.
"What such a friendly ball of fluff like yourself could have done to those gentlemen?" looking down at the Lab in amusement, Neal asks. The dog keeps wagging his tail. "You haven't bitten anyone, have you?" Chuckling, Neal bends again to pat the dog. What a delightful fellow. When the dog barks, Neal chuckles yet again. "You smell a cat, huh?" burrowing his face in the dog's fur, Neal guesses and laughs as the similar sounding bark comes in response.
"So this is your dog?" Continuing to pet the dog, Neal gets so focused on his newly found playmate that the question comes as a complete surprise to him. Pulling away from the dog, he sees that during the time the dog's charm has completely taken him over, the two chasers have managed to cut their distance to two feet. The PEP officer, who has asked the question, is now looking at him expectantly. He looks annoyed and is still flushed from running. The second man's face is crimson. Almost the shade of red that Neal worked so hard to mix yesterday. He needed that red to paint the king's robes on the forgery he has been currently working on for Mister Keller.
"What are you, deaf?!" as Neal's silence continues, the second man shouts.
Neal frowns. The plan, if there ever was one, was to tell the two the truth – to explain that he has just met this dog and to be on his way. It would be the reasonable thing to do. So why hesitate? Why… Come to think of it, he has never conned a PEP officer. He may have a real opportunity here.
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, I, I don't know what h-happened or how," deliberately stuttering, Neal waits for one of the men to interrupt him. It does not take long.
"Oh great!" The second man shouts. "THIS CRAZY ANIMAL SHOULD WEAR A MUZZLE! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING LETTING IT WANDER OFF THE LEASH TO STEAL FOOD AND RUIN MY BUSINESS!"
As the man leans over him, Neal takes a step back. He scrunches his face in disgust as the man's spittle lands on his face. Remembering he is doing this for the dog's sake, Neal scans the irate adult.
He looks around middle fifties, his checkered t-shirt is stained with a mix of mustard and ketchup. Glancing down at the Lab for a moment, Neal cannot quite hide his smile. It is a rookie's mistake to get spotted while robbing a food-stand. Looking up at the man, who is still shouting at him, Neal cocks his head. He notices another small detail that till now has escaped his attention. The man's right hand has a nasty looking burn. This is going to be his inspiration, Neal decides. A quick look at the blank-faced PEP officer tells him that he will probably eat it up too.
"I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say," Neal's renewed stuttering puts an end to the man's rant. "I… I've been made responsible for this hero here. It's such an honor. I'm sorry, I got distracted. One moment he was there, the next - puff! I was looking for him when I heard the shouts. Dear Vincent, I'm so glad you've found him! Thank you so, so much!" Hugging the dog and glancing up at the two men, Neal intends to look both stressed and grateful. "My little rescue…" Hugging the dog, Neal burrows his face in his soft fur. "But now none of the firemen will ever allow me to walk you, will they?" looking up at the two adults observing him with the seemingly unseeing eyes, Neal pauses, his expression is lost. "But it's my own fault," appearing resigned, he finishes sadly.
The silence after his last words gets interrupted by the PEP officer clearing his throat. "The fines for letting the dog run loose are high and here the situation is even more serious - the dog has breached private property." The officer says, although he looks slightly bemused. Then, suddenly Neal's words seem to finally catch up to him. "Wait a moment, you mean he's a rescue dog?"
"Well, actually - no" Neal hangs his head down, his sorrowful eyes focused on the Lab. He wants both adults to believe his attention is focused only on the dog. Out of his pocket does he bring out a string and starts to tie a bowline knot on the dog's collar. He makes a deliberate show out of it so that the officer could clearly see what he is doing and recognize one of the rescue knots. "Not anymore, anyway. During one action he got caught in a fire, and…" Neal sighs. "Well, he changed." He pauses, letting his audience draw their own conclusions. "I still think it shouldn't change the fact that in the past he was a hero, you know?" he adds, meeting the eyes of the two men again. "At least I promised myself I would never forget it," he says quietly and deciding the con is finished, falls into a deep silence. Now the adults need time to think the things through.
"Well…" It is the PEP officer who finally speaks. He looks at the other man. "It's really up to you sir, whether you want to press charges or not," he says and then kneeling next to Neal, he pats the Lab's head. "That's a good knot you've made, kid. You a scout?" he asks Neal with a smile.
"My old man says to always be prepared. He taught me that," thinking of Mister Keller, Neal explains.
"That's a good lesson," the PEP officer nods with approval, but before he can ask more questions about the dog's origins or Neal's scout connections, the other adult finally manages to make up his mind.
"Well, to be honest… Those were just two or three sausages," the man shrugs awkwardly, scratching his beard. Noticing Neal's paint stained hands, he asks. "You work?"
"Ah, yeah, that," feeling a bit confused, Neal explains.
"Ah, yes, helping with repairs," the man assumes, then turns to the other adult. "I really can't say I have seen anything happen, officer," he tells him.
"Me too. I don't even know what I'm doing here," the PEP officer chuckles.
"Okay, then I guess I should go back to my stand now," the food worker says.
Neal looks with gratitude at the two adults. As the con draws to a close, Neal cannot believe how much fun he is having. "Thank you so much! At least I can pay you back for what my buddy has eaten here," he says shyly. Then, deciding that if given a choice he would rather keep his money, he adds "I mean, I guess right now I kind of cannot, but maybe I will come back and―"
"No, no. That was on me. Hero needs to eat, right?" Bending to pat the dog's head, the adult smiles and then chuckles as the dog licks his hand. "It was a pleasure," he says turning to Neal. He claps his shoulder. "Hard work is good, you know? Keep it up boy and you will grow up to be a man." Neal smiles, forcing himself not to flinch away from the unexpected touch.
"I know and I will!" he enthusiastically promises. "And thank you, sir!" The man nods in acknowledgement, apologizes for troubling the PEP officer and then he is on his way. But before Neal can feel relieved that the adult's gone- someone beside him speaks. As it turns out, the PEP officer has not finished with him yet.
"You know, the procedures aren't really as simple as I've told you before. Just because that man did not press charges it does not mean I did not see this dog running off leash in the park. And this is most definitely not a leash-free area. The fine for such an offense is 260$."
"I understand", Neal nods biting on his lip.
"But of course I don't like the idea of giving criminal record to such a great dog as this one," reaching out to pat the dog, the adult unexpectedly grins. "Just like I don't like the idea of giving your folks trouble," the nice officer adds. "And I get you don't want to lose the privilege of walking with him." The man pauses, his eyes locked on Neal's. As if expecting some kind of verbal answer from him.
"I'm sorry," Neal says, deciding that apologizing again is the safest option.
The man smiles. "Okay, smart kid, just make sure this will never happen again," he says, ruffling Neal's hair and once again it is hard not to flinch away. But Neal stands his ground and the PEP officer does not notice. He turns to leave only to pause the next moment to look over his shoulder.
"Oh, one more thing," he says. "Remind me again, what's the hero's name?"
"Satchmo!" Neal answers. That is what the tag on the dog's collar claims, at least.
"Okay, I hope not to talk to you ever again!" the officer nods and then, finally turns away from him. Watching the adult leave, Neal lets out a sigh of relief.
"Free at last," Neal tells his companion, dropping on the ground next to him. The dog barks happily in agreement and tries to lick his face. Chuckling, Neal tries to protect himself from the next attack. "That was fun though," he says, peeking from between his fingers at the dog. There is a lot to feel good about today, Neal decides. He has actually managed to save this dog from trouble. Enjoying the feeling of victory, he burrows his face in the dog's fur. He closes his eyes for a moment. Satchmo is such a fluffy dog.
"Dear Vincent, you're so fluffy," he voices aloud his thoughts. Then, Neal chuckles. "And also - you're such a rookie!" he exclaims. "Getting noticed while robbing a food-stand? Really?! That deserves a―" Neal pauses, feeling bad about what he has wanted to say initially. Pulling away a bit from the Lab, he meets his caramel eyes again. "A proper meal," he tells his companion. The dog tries to reach and kiss his face again. "Okay, okay, stop! I'm not food!" Neal tries to calm the dog. Come to think of it, he is hungry as well. Maybe not as hungry as Satchmo, but still hungry enough. Getting up from the grass, Neal grins down at the dog. He is going to show the rookie how it is done.
/\_/\
='x'=
An hour later Neal finds himself leading his new companion to one of his favorite oak trees in the park. After they both settle in the shade protecting them from sunlight, Neal fishes two sandwiches out from his bag.
"And this Satchmo - is how it's really done." Handing the dog one of the sandwiches, Neal grins. "Smile, distract and then grab. That's how you become the master," Neal sighs watching the dog as it happily starts to munch on the sandwich. He takes a bite from his own prosciutto e rucola. It feels good to be a little bit hungry. It also feels good to have something delicious to fill your stomach with. Closing his eyes Neal enjoys the feeling of the warm sunlight on his face. He rests his back against the tree trunk.
Dear Vincent, he feels bad for this dog. Life is going to be so harsh for him on the streets of New York. Opening one eye to glance at Satchmo, Neal grimaces. "You know, it would be much better for you if you could change into a cat, like right now," he tells him glumly. The dog, who has just finished his sandwich sticks out his tongue in response. He looks like he is smiling. "Hey! Don't you laugh at me!" Neal exclaims in indignation and the Lab, apparently thinking it is some sort of game, jumps on him. "And don't you―"
Falling onto the ground, Neal laughs. Then, he watches in amusement as the dog rests his snout on his chest, his puppy eyes clearly begging Neal for a bite from his own sandwich. Neal takes pity on him and breaks it in two.
"You make more of a mess than a cat does," Neal smiles watching the dog eat. "They eat tuna. Do you like tuna? It's a fish and it stinks. I mean, it did not at first but now, that I have to smell it like almost every day, it really does… Smell. Bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know there are worse things to eat. I have eaten worse things in my life. I know tuna can become someone's ambrosia, when hungry enough. But let's say if I had to choose between a can of tuna and a can of Do I talk too much?" The dog, who has by now finished, just licks his lips. Neal rests his hand on top of the dog's head. "Yes, of course I do. But you don't mind, do you?" He chuckles. "Hm. Satchmo. Satch. Satch-mo. What a weird name. Has a nice ring to it though. I wonder who they named you after… Or was it just let's-be-silly-this-once kind of thing."
Neal can just laugh as the dog, instead of answering the questions, starts to make his puppy eyes again, clearly focused on the task of getting the remaining half of Neal's sandwich. "Nope, nope, that's mine!" he tells him with a chuckle. "And I have to eat when I am hungry because―"
"Oh, fine. We'll share and I will get us fresh ones. Hm. Do you like pizza? I think I am in a mood for pizza." He gets up with a sigh, then thinking more about it, grimaces. No. Pizza is not a good idea. He has a dog now and… "Oh, fine, you know what? How about I show you how the master really gets it done?" he asks the dog and when he barks, Neal fishes a buck out of his pocket. He waves it in front of the dog's snout. "See, the real masters do not rob food stands, rookie. We don't steal for food, we steal for money. And we have plenty." They start walking and Neal chuckles. He raises his eyebrow at the dog. "Of course, Satchmo, when you are a dog, money will do you no good. You'll have to learn to do things the dog way. See? That's why I've told you it would be better if you were a cat. For starters cats have smaller stomachs to fill."
Looking up at the azure sky, Neal again can just sigh. "You're a good company, Satch. I'm sure you'll make it," he tells the dog with confidence that he is far from feeling. On the street it really is better to be a cat than a dog. Just like it is better to be an adult than a child. Or a part of a criminal group than an outsider. These are the rules here and Satchmo has a lot to learn if he wants to make it.
/\_/\
='x'=
Since he met the-missing-one, Satchmo's original quest for his two other two-legs has had to be put on hold. The pup has turned out to be just too entertaining for it to be any other way.
By now Satchmo's stomach is full with yummy things that his masters, for some unfathomable reason, have never introduced him to. As the boy stops talking, Satch whines. He wants to hear more of that voice. Wrapping his hands around him, the two-leg laughs. He burrows his face in Satch's fur and Satchmo starts to lick his hands. He barks yet again and then jumps on the-missing-one, pinning him to the ground. The pup makes a surprised sound and Satch lets him go.
Let's play! Let's play! Jumping around the two-leg, he starts to bark. The pup tries to catch him but he fails. Satch runs away for a moment, then lies down again. Wagging his tail, he observes the-missing-one who looks back at him in surprise. When the two-leg remains motionless, Satch runs towards him again, jumps, then runs away. The pup laughs and this time when he tries to catch him, Satchmo lets him. As the two-leg pets his head, Satch, standing still, closes his eyes for a moment and then licks his two-leg's hand affectionately. He meets the blue eyes of the pup again and barks. This time, when he runs away he is delighted to see the-missing-one following him with no hesitation. Laughing, his two-leg chases after him and Satch, running away, continues to bark. Today cannot possibly be more perfect.
/\_/\
='x'=
Stopping for a moment, Neal finds it hard to catch his breath. Satchmo immediately notices and Neal watches the Lab come running back towards him. He stops in front of him to catch Neal's hand in his mouth, then with another one of those happy barks he pulls away and lies in the grass. The tongue sticking out of his mouth making him look just as silly as a dog can look. Still feeling a bit breathless, Neal steps towards him. In response the dog happily barks again and runs away a couple of feet only to stop and look at him expectantly. As if to make sure he is still playing. "Ha! It's on!" Neal tells his companion preparing himself for yet another mad dash. The dog barks back at him.
Minutes later they are still running and for a moment there Neal even manages to take the lead. But then the dog outpaces him again and Neal can just envy those four legs of his. With just two he is hardly a match for the Lab.
Neal stops again and this time the dog comes back at him at full speed. He knocks Neal over and starts to lick his face. Chuckling, Neal makes the dog roll over and then they are at it again. Roughhousing in the grass, Neal does not remember when was the last time he felt so carefree.
Dear Vincent, saying goodbye to this one is going to be hard. Still… It must be early afternoon, so he guesses they still have plenty of time to play.
/\_/\
='x'=
"I'm SO thirsty," the little two-leg sitting next to him remarks and Satch, despite not understanding a thing, barks in response. Then he returns to lapping the water from the channel. He is SO thirsty. But even more he is SO happy.
Stopping for a moment his drinking, Satch rests his head on his companion's lap. Looking up at him, he wags his tail. He loves this little two-leg. He wants nothing more than to be with him and listen to this wonderful laugh of his.
His pup, after putting aside the bottle, from which he has been drinking, wraps his arms around Satchmo and rests his chin on the top of his head. "You're a delightful companion, you know that?" his two-leg asks him and Satchmo, despite not understanding the words barks in agreement. He licks the pup's hand again and tries to lick his face but the-missing-one does not let him. Laughing, the pup wraps his arms more tightly around Satchmo.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Told you I don't like that," Neal scolds the dog and then with a sigh, burrows his face in the dog's soft fur. He feels warm. Satchmo is such a warm dog. Satchmo. He kisses the top of the dog's head. "On the street you shouldn't go by Satchmo anymore. It's not safe, you know?"
As the dog tries to lick his face again, Neal chuckles yet once more. He falls on his back in the soft grass and the dog follows him. Satchmo curls by his side, resting his big fluffy head on Neal's chest and looking at him expectantly as if to ask what his new name should be.
"Can't you think of something yourself?" he asks. But the dog is adamant that he should be the one to choose his new name. "Well, fine then… If you insist." Neal sighs, then grins. "Just remember, you're the one who wanted it!"
The dog woofs his thanks.
/\_/\
='x'=
It is almost 2PM and they have been thinking about the new name for at least an hour now and yet still neither of them have been able to think of anything better than Satchmo. Neal wants the name to be perfect. It is the least he could do for the stray.
"You may think it does not matter," Neal tells the dog. "But you would be wrong. The first fake name is the most important one because it's the one you will remember. All future ones will just blur together."
How so? The dog, not looking away from the pizza he is currently devouring, asks and Neal shakes his head.
"Because they will," he tells the dog seriously. "After Neal came Danny, and after Danny… Nick, George, someone starting with a J, I don't know. To be honest with you I remember only the ones for which I still have IDs. But Danny… Danny does not have an ID anymore. But Danny started it all. And Danny was an awful alias. That's why we have to take our time to think now. You don't want to end up named after your mummy's boyfriend after all. If it was just a name, but that surname ― Satch, it's really a very good thing dogs don't need surnames," Neal sighs. He himself has long forgotten what his original surname was. Mum would know. But mum was not around anymore.
/\_/\
='x'=
Opening the door, Elizabeth Burke prepared herself for the crazy ball of happiness to come running at high-speed towards her, jump on her and try to sweep her off her feet. Satchmo's own way of saying I've missed you.
So, understandably, she was surprised when nothing of the sort had happened. The dog was nowhere in sight. "Satchmo! I'm home!" she called towards the rest of the house. Everything was quiet. "Satch!" Losing her heels, Elle decided to check the usual places first. Her husband, when it came to every-day things could get very forgetful and so it happened quite often for Satch to get imprisoned in weird places.
"Satch!" Elle opened the backdoor. "You here buddy? We're going for a walk," she called, but the outside was just as quiet as the inside. Furrowing her brows, Elle closed the door, then, still calling after the dog, she ran upstairs. Was it possible Peter got home early and decided to take Satchmo for an afternoon walk? But if so, why did he not tell her? He should have told her. Communication. They lacked in it sometimes. If she had known he was planning to come back, she would have made different plans. Or he could have just waited for her and they could have gone for a walk together.
After checking every room of their house, Elle was frustrated. So indeed Peter must have come back home earlier and taken Satchmo for a walk. Putting the water for the coffee, Elle sighed. It was better to check with him anyway. After dialing the number, Elle had to wait only a few seconds for Peter to answer.
"Hi hon," he cheerfully said. "What's up?"
"Hey hon, you have not told me you'll be walking Satchmo today. When will you boys be back? Oh, and do you have time to stay for lunch? I've just come back, I have about an hour before I have to head back to the office but if you want―" Suddenly she paused. Was it Jones she was hearing in the background? "Peter, you're still at the office?!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry but just as I have told you this morning I don't think I have―" Peter paused. "You've thought I was with Satchmo?"
"Oh no," putting away the phone, Elle mumbled under her breath. "SATCHMO?!" exiting the kitchen she called their dear dog yet again and frantically started to look around the house. She ran upstairs, checked every room and then ran back downstairs.
Grabbing the phone from the kitchen counter, ignoring Peter's confused questions about what was going on, she frantically ran to the backyard. "Satchmo!? Satch― Peter, I can't find Satchmo anywhere!" she finally said. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest.
"What? Are you sure?"
"Am I sure ― Yes, I am. I'm calling after him and he is not answering!"
"…the door," despite her panic she heard softly spoken words on the other side. She stood still.
"The door?" she echoed.
"I forgot to close the door in the morning. But it was just for a moment, there is no way Satchmo could have―" Peter paused. "We're going to fix this Elle, find him, he's got an electronic chip, a collar with our address and number on it, we can put up posters and call animal service…" Tuning out for a moment her husband's reassurances, Elle took in a long, calming breath. She could not believe this was actually happening. Poor Satchmo! How was he doing? Was he doing all right? She hoped he was doing all right and that they would find him soon.
/\_/\
='x'=
Following his little two-leg, Satchmo feels as if he is in heaven. This day is perfect. He has eaten, he has had fun, he has taken a nap, he has eaten again, the pup has not stopped talking to him even for a moment and now it looks like they are going to play again. They have to. That's what Satch wants after all.
Satchmo grabs the pup's sleeve in his teeth and shakes his head. Then, he lets go off the cloth and runs a couple of feet away from his two-leg. Wagging his tail, he barks happily.
He-who-runs-fast, catch me if you can!
Weirdly enough, the pup does not chuckle or try to run after him. Instead the-missing-one stops. His eyes are gloomy. Satch runs towards him again and licks his hand. He still does not react.
The dog cocks his head at his little two-leg. What's wrong?
/\_/\
='x'=
Looking back into the caramel eyes of the still nameless dog, Neal feels guilty. It is not like he did not know this moment would come. No, in fact ever since meeting the dog Neal has tried to prepare himself for exactly this moment. Clearly, with little to no effect.
"I'm sorry." Neal kneels next to the dog. "I'm afraid this is a goodbye my dear friend." The dog just continues to happily lick Neal's hand. Neal takes Satchmo's head between his two hands. "Do you understand?" he asks the dog and the stray tries to reach for his face now. "We cannot be together anymore. We were never meant to be in the first place."
The dog jumps on him and Neal, suddenly unable not to chuckle, falls on his back. "Crazy doggo!" Hugging the dog, he tries to hide his amusement and remain serious but Satchmo does not let him. Protecting himself from the dog's attacks, Neal snorts and then has no choice but to burst into a full laughter.
"Crazy, crazy, crazy," finally managing to get a hold of Satchmo, he tells him and the dog licks his face in response. Snuggling his face into the dog's soft fur, Neal sighs. He feels tears in his eyes. "This must be a goodbye Satchmo The Nameless," he tells his companion softly. "You see, that's the way grown-up world works. I have told you this before. I have explained to you quite a lot today, haven't I? As long as you remember not to get into fights and find your own pack of dogs you should be all right," he reassures his friend.
Dear Vincent, a pack of dogs?! Who is he kidding? If anywhere, this Lab is going to end up in a shelter. Every dog gets caught eventually. It is one of the reasons why cats have it better.
"You're sure you can't change into a cat?" Neal asks, pulling away a bit from the dog to meet his eyes again. When the dog tries to reach his face again, Neal chuckles. "Yeah, right. Here goes my answer." Taking a deep breath, Neal stands up. "Let's not be too touchy-feely about it, okay? We've both got things to do. You have to continue to survive and I - well, I have to get some sleep before the meeting. Adults to impress," kissing the dog on the top of his head, Neal smiles. "Paintings to steal. You get the picture," Neal chuckles. After waving his hand in goodbye, he turns to his right, where the ladder leading up to the rooftop is. He jumps catching the nearest rung. As he starts to climb he hears the dog's confused whining. It breaks his heart but he does not look back.
/\_/\
='x'=
As his two-leg disappears over the edge of the rooftop, Satchmo can just fidget in place. Stopping his whining, he starts to bark. He feels lost. The-missing-one has to be there, somewhere. But Satchmo cannot see him. He can still smell the pup but he has hidden himself from him. He does not like this game. Satchmo barks yet again.
He-who-runs-fast!
He-who-gives-best-hugs!
He-who-plays-best!
Calling after his two-leg, Satchmo feels confused. Leaving the alley, he sniffs the air. His two-leg has to be somewhere nearby. When is he coming back?
/\_/\
='x'=
Running away from the miserable whines of the dog, Neal feels tears in his eyes. He could not have risked bringing him to Mister Keller's workshop. As to Neal's own safe-places, they are all located too high for a dog to climb. So Satch really has been just a problem, not a companion. That's why cats are way better than dogs. They are small, independent and can climb roofs. Also, adults barely ever notice them. Neal, just like any other stray, cannot afford to be noticed. If he were, he would not be taken to a shelter. Instead, he would be taken to a far worse place - a group house or a foster home. He feels a cold shiver run through him at the thought. No. However nice playing with that dog has been, risking getting in the system has just not been worth it. And even if he somehow managed to pull it off, keep both him and Satchmo The Nameless off the grid, the social workers would not be the only ones after them.
Mister Keller, Neal knows, as a rule does not appreciate any animal's presence. To him they are pests. No. It is better for Neal and Satchmo to split apart. Better for both of them.
When he can no longer hear the dog, Neal slows down his steps. Relieved, he runs a hand over his face to get rid of the last of the tears. Stupid dog. Stupid Neal. He knows what mess he was getting into when he saved the dog and yet he got into it anyway. Sometimes, Neal really doubts he has any judgment to speak of.
/\_/\
='x'=
This is the worst time of his life. Walking alone through the streets of New York, Satchmo feels despair. First he has met the most amazing companion to play with and then, the next things he knows, he is alone again. His two-leg has run away and Satchmo has had no way to follow him.
He still has no idea where she-who-smells-of-home and he-who-smells-of-home are. Quietly whining to himself, he burrows his snout in some garbage. He whines with disappointment. Just like all the other times he has done it, Satchmo can smell food, but for some reason, however long he searches for it, he finds none. Well, maybe, for just one lick, he does.
Something caws next to him. It is a crow. Then comes another one. If Satchmo were his normal-happy self, he would have chased after it. Such as things are, he just indifferently walks past it.
He-who-runs-fast! Satchmo yet again cries after the-missing-one. Silence answers him. With his snout to the ground, trying to catch the smell of either one of his two-legs, Satchmo continues on his lonely road.
/\_/\
='x'=
Taking a step back from the easel to take a better look at the painting, Neal nods his head in approval. Good. So far he has been doing very good. He glances at the clock. It is near 5AM. That means seven hours till the scheduled meeting. He should really get some sleep now. It is about time. He has not planned to do an all-nighter. This forgery is not due till next week, so there really is no rush to try to finish it now. There is no point working on it till he falls on his face from exhaustion. When so tired he would only end up making stupid mistakes he would have to spend the next two days correcting. Forgeries for Keller, who is an artist himself, have to be perfect. Or else the adult would notice Neal has been slacking off. No. He really should get some sleep now.
Putting aside the brush and the palette, Neal stretches. He knows he is tired, but also, weirdly, he is feeling restless. He goes to the fridge and opens it, but aside from Mister Keller's whiskey it is empty. Oh, yeah. Neal has forgotten he hardly ever sleeps at the workshop. Maybe that's the reason for his restlessness?
Deciding that yes, it must be, Neal glances at the clock yet again. Well, there is still time to get to one of his favorite rooftop spots, he guesses. Only, is it wise with so little time till the meeting?
He hears a meow coming from outside. He moves towards the window and recognizes the cat as Vincent. He can also see Claude and some other shy stray, he does not know, lurking on the edge of the balcony. "I will be back with you in a minute," going to the fridge Neal tells the cats, then frowns. Oh, that's right. He has forgotten. No tuna, just whiskey. "I guess you don't drink?" he asks the cats and when the shy stray behind Claude meows in response, Neal sighs. "Well, bad luck for you," he tells them.
The cats say nothing, just look back at him expectantly. "I've said bad luck, shoo!" Neal says, but only the newest stray backs away. Opening the door and coming onto the balcony, Neal sighs yet again. He closes the door behind him, then sits on the cold flooring. He cocks his head at Vincent.
"Well? What's up?" Neal asks and Vincent comes to him purring. He settles himself on his lap. Neal starts petting the cat. He closes his eyes. "I know, I know. I couldn't sleep tonight either," he tells his best friend.
Claude meows. But we can sleep, we're just night creatures, Neal. He translates the words.
"Well I am a night creature too!" he lively disagrees with the cat, which makes the newest stray back away even more. The cat hisses showing his white teeth, Neal hisses back.
Usually by this point he would try to name the cat. Somehow, today he cannot bring himself to do this. The memory of another, he has failed to give a second name to, prevents him from thinking of anything, but the cries of a helpless dog he has left behind. "Dear Vincent," running a hand over his face, Neal sighs. "You won't believe what stray I run into today… Well, yesterday I guess. Dogs are so silly. I understand why mum used to always object to getting one! Though on the other hand she was not especially fond of cats either… Which doesn't matter. Either way, I like you guys so much better than dogs. Who needs dogs… Why am I thinking about that dog… You know what Mister Keller has told me recently? He's told me, that if I died, you all would not blink twice before eating me. And that it is true for all animals. Cats, dogs, rats, raccoons, pigeons… But he does not know you!" Aggravated, he picks up Vincent and locks his eyes with the loudly purring cat. "We're friends and friends don't eat each other, right?"
Vincent meows, but clearly, for the newest stray, Neal's talking combined with no food is enough to decide it's his time to leave. Neal watches the creature nimbly jump onto the lower balcony and swiftly disappear from sight. He sighs, then looks back at Vincent and Claude. "You've probably told him here's where the greatest minds of all time gather. That here is a place where all the artists from around the world can debate with one another. That's what he's expected coming here. And what has he found instead? A little boy with an empty fridge and a dog problem. Talking nonsense."
Despite the self-criticism Neal somehow cannot make himself start his usual debate with the cats. They do not even have anything to eat, what kind of a meeting is this? He snuggles Vincent close to his chest. "Still, nice of you two to visit me," he mumbles to him. His cat meows and Neal, looking up at the sky smiles. It is already sunrise. Undoubtedly a beautiful one, especially if it were to be watched from a rooftop. Maybe that's where he should go now since he does not feel like getting any sleep?
Or maybe you should do something useful and give us something to eat? Claude, sitting a foot away from them, asks. The biscuit cat, unlike Vincent, is very shy. Neal can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times the distrustful cat has agreed to be petted. He named it Claude, since it reminded him of the little glazed terracotta feline that belonged to Claude Monet himself. Claude, when Neal first spotted it on his balcony about five months ago, looked exactly like that little sculpture - thin, with biscuit fur and lazily sleeping. Unlike the figurine, it also run away the moment Neal tried to get close.
"You won't even let me pet you and you want something to eat?" Neal asks the cat reproachfully. "Vincent, I understand. We're old pals. But you? Just look at you."
Look at yourself. Not in a mood for jokes the cat shows his white fangs. Worrying over some dog.
"You're not even the original Claude," Neal teases him. He has no idea where the original went. Or maybe died. He tries not to think too much about where those cats disappear. It's better this way.
Claude does not answer him. He has hurt his feelings and Neal knows it. Vincent pats Neal's mouth with his paw, clearly trying to make him start petting him again. Neal does, but at the same time decides to use Vincent's gesture in his pretend game.
You'd better say nothing more, dear child. The wise cat friend tells him, a paw on Neal's mouth is a shushing gesture. Conscience should be the man's compass.
"But you haven't even given me a chance to apologize," Neal protests.
Apologize with a tuna can! Claude meows and Neal sighs. He puts Vincent down.
"Fine," standing up, he tells his impudent guests. "I will get your tuna."