Day Five
On the fifth day of nightmares it was the yakuza that was trying to beat me to a bloody pulp. Oddly enough, one of the tigers on the leader's arm tattoos detached itself and started to claw off my assailants' faces. I wondered what all these odd dreams meant. Maybe I was subconsciously feeling guilty about adopting the cat only to return it. He was kind of cute. Still, my life didn't loan itself to pet ownership. Butternut was better off with out me.
This morning His High Orange-ness went off at 4AM like normal. Yesterday must have been a fluke. At 8 in the morning I found myself at Eleanor's door again, even though I left less than 8 hours before. I went over and freshened up the food dish and refilled the water dish.
Eleanor's cats tried to kill me when I went down the stairs to bring up a new bag of cat food to refill the empty feeders. It never failed. Every time I went up the stairs in Eleanor's house, one of her cats tried to trip me on the stairs. I think they were upset at me for some reason. However, they'd been planning my murder for most of their lives, and hadn't succeeded today anymore than any of their other assassination attempts.
Still, when I bent down to pet Peacemaker, he bit me hard enough to draw blood. This set off Ghandi who ran to defend his brother and subsequently knocked over the food dish and sprayed food everywhere. I then had to sweep Eleanor's floor. Whatever Butternut's new name would be, it would not named after a wish for peace. That seemed to offend a cat's soul, if these two were any examples.
It was with a pang that I realized that Butternut was running out of time for a new name. Soon he would be Butternut at the shelter. I pushed the thought aside. I returned home and went to search for the squashling. I couldn't find him anywhere. I tore through Gerty looking high and low. I ripped apart my bedroom, my galley, my bathroom. I turned on the water in the sink to see if that would entice the kitten out from wherever he was hiding. He didn't come.
Having exhaustively searched my stateroom, I expanded into the other areas of the ship. I found a catnip mouse in the chart room, but not my kitten. I went into the engine room and called, but there was now growling purr from the kitten or Gerty's engines. From the engine room I advanced to the holds but there were no cheerful chirps to greet me anywhere. At last I came to the deck and could find no trace of my cat. I hoped he hadn't gotten out when I left to feed Eleanor's cats. Swimming in the sink was nothing compared to the sea.
As I was running my hands through my hair after ascertaining that Butternut had not snuck into my truck and was not hiding in the truck's bed, Nathan rolled up in his ancient bronco. He got out and smirked at me. "I don't think Audrey intended you to feed the cats twice in less than 8 hours."
"Yeah, well, I had to take the cat to the vet. He threw up the night before yesterday morning. Then I had to work, and then I went to bed and remembered I needed to feed Eleanor's cats, so went over to feed them. I wanted to get it out of the way this morning." I really wished Nathan would leave so I could continue to look for Butternut.
"Have you remembered that you need to clean the cat box yet?" Nathan asked me.
"What? No. Now go away and go torment someone with a parking ticket or something." I looked at Nathan, confused and still was trying to catalog where my cat may have gone. Please let it not be into the sea.
Nathan obligingly brought out a little pad and wrote me a ticket. I have no idea what for, and I really didn't care. I wanted my cat. I wanted Nathan gone. Ten bucks and five minutes of harassment were a small price to pay if he would leave me alone to find my furball.
"You aren't in the parking lines. Here, have a ticket, on the house. Now I want to actively see you clean the cat box." He grinned.
I realized that it would be faster overall to just clean the damn box in front of him so that he would leave and I could go back looking for my cat. We boarded Gerty and I surreptitiously looked around for my missing roommate. Nathan noticed.
"Where is the cat, Duke?" he asked.
"Sleeping somewhere." I turned my back to him and headed to my bathroom. The box was there. It was tucked under the sink. There was a small pile of cat litter around it, proof that cats do not wipe their feet before exiting. I'd stepped on enough cat litter in the past few days to find out it was surprisingly sharp.
I picked up the box and was almost gagging. I put it back down again and stepped away. I wondered if I could throw it out and just by a new one.
"No, you must clean the cat box, not replace the cat box." Nathan could clearly read my mind on this matter. This is why he came over. I don't hate him, but I do really, really, really dislike him sometimes.
I paused and realized that perhaps it would be better to bring a trash bag to the box rather than pick up the box carry it (and its stench) through my living quarters, and then dump it into the bag. I walked out the galley and grabbed a couple of trash bags. I came back and the bags opened with a satisfying SWACK as I waved them through the air. I took the open bag and put the litter box in it. Nathan made a disapproving noise.
"I'm not done yet, Wournos."
I picked up a second bag, and opened it, and scooped up the other bag with the litter box in it, creating a pill like shape. I flipped the whole mess over and banged on the back of the box. Then gripping the box with the second plastic bag, I lifted the contents up and did my best to keep everything in the bags. Then I removed the box and slid it back under the sink. I used the second bag to wrap up the first bag. Tossing the bag in the corner, I grabbed the litter bag and added more litter into the box.
"Tah-Dah!" I stood back with a flourish only to hear a scream that chilled my blood. I quickly danced around, and saw an orange streak head straight for Nathan. Butternut ran straight up Nathan and landed on his head. He gave a war scream and began slapping Nathan in the face.
I was so happy to see my kitten. He was home and safe. He was also beating up Nathan. Some part of me thought that I should really stop him, but the rest of me was laughing hysterically. I must have stepped on him when I stepped back, and Butternut must have decided that Nathan made me do it. Which in a way, he did. I had been intending to hold off on cleaning the cat box as long as possible and I'd already hung three car air fresheners off my sink just to try to cover the smell.
Nathan was trying to remove his impromptu hat, but it was actively fighting back. I calmed down when I realized that there were scratch marks distressingly near Nathan's eyes.
I pulled Butternut off of Nathan's head and cradled him to my chest, telling him he was a good cat. I felt down his limbs and tail and everything seemed to be attached and it was still straight or bendy as nature dictated, and there were no extra bends or straight bits. He was ok, I reassured myself and Butternut.
By the time I was done convincing myself that my kitten was in one piece and really in my arms, Nathan had grabbed my towel and wiped the blood off of his face. He stomped out of my bathroom.
I followed him out, still holding Butternut. "Sorry Nathan, I had no idea he was there. He's been missing a good chunk of the day. I thought he was gone." I looked down at yellow green eyes and ran my fingers through his soft fur.
Nathan stopped and looked at me. We'd reached the galley where the stairs went up and out to the deck. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. He stared at the wall as if to sear the paint off of it for a moment. "Next time you lose your cat, don't expect me to find it for you."
His shoe rustled a trash bag that I had dropped earlier. Butternut jumped out of my arms and dashed to beat on the plastic bag. However, when he realized it was Nathan that had rustled the bag he arched his back and began to spit and hiss at our arch rival. Nathan rolled his eyes and gingerly stepped over the orange dust mote, then took his leave.
I walked over to Butternut. He stopped attacking innocent trash bags and ran over to me. He purred. "Good boy, Hell-Raiser." My kitten ran off to kill his spider.