…I have commited kittenreplyspam. (For nakedtoes, October 23, 2005)
Sam couldn't tear her eyes away from the spectacle currently on her couch. It wasn't that it was that unusual, especially compared to the things she saw and worked with everyday. It's just that she had never really expected to see Jack O'Neill stretched out on her sofa with a tiny little orange fluffball of a kitten curled up on his stomach.
In her sentimental and completely private daydreams, she may have imagined him there with a dog at his feet. Something large and loyal like a retriever, something that would love Jack ardently and forever. But...a cat?
Cats were independent. Cats were haughty. Cats were great to cuddle with and stroke, but only on their terms. Yet, there he lay with the kitten, and while he'd deny it, she'd swear that he was purposely breathing shallowly so as not to disturb it.
"You bought a cat?" she finally asked.
"You like cats," he replied a little defensively.
"I know I like cats. I didn't know you liked cats."
He glanced down at the fluff and then back at her. "Well, I was on my way to the pound, you know, to pick out a big and manly dog, and there was this sound coming from under my car..." If he could flail without waking the tiny creature, he probably would have been by now. "And there she was, all wet and pathetic and she has big blue eyes that look just like yours and she kept making that sound...I couldn't just leave her there."
Sam had no choice but to melt at that, because he was so earnest and sweet and even if that hadn't been enough, the kitten poked its head up with a "Mrow?" and a blink that would have stopped even Kinsey in his tracks.
Scooping up the tiny animal, she nuzzled it gently. "Of course not..."
Jack, looking considerably relieved that the issue was now decided, scooted closer to them both and scratched behind its ears. "Can we still get a dog?"
She sighed, knowing the battle was lost. "Yes. But I swear to God if you start looking at white picket fences, I'll leave you in a heartbeat."