Chapter 6; The Vet Clinic
Humbert had found a basket, a blanket he never used, and after feeding both himself and the kitten, had driven around to the nearest vet's. The brown kitten had curled up happily in the basket. She had slept the night under his bed, keeping him awake until he got used to her purring.
The receptionist and nurse had been surprised to see Humbert come in with a perfectly brown kitten. They were used to kittens with grey patterns and bright blue eyes. The girl behind the desk did a search of cat breeds.
There was one that was completely brown like the kitten. A rare breed, fairly hardy, but rare. Rare in pets meant valuable.
Humbert gave the receptionist an account of how he had come by the kitten, and she asked if he intended to keep it.
"Most people don't, you know. Keep strays I mean," she told him, looking at the kitten longingly.
"I think I will," Humbert answered, stroking the kitten gently as she lay, curled up, in the basket. "But I don't know what kittens need," he added, a question there.
The girl was just seventeen, working in the summer break to earn some extra pocket money, and had dark hair streaked with highlights that was tied in a long horsetail. When she stopped being soppy over the kitten, she looked Humbert up and down. He wasn't that much older than her after all, and high school girls are inclined to crush on older men.
Pants, clean shirt, shocking orange hair, and green eyes that were just as shocking at his hair. He was an improvement on the guys her age, who wore long shorts and any shirt that was flexible enough to be worn. At the same time, he was too old for her, just a little.
She handed over a pamphlet. It was glossy, blue, had a cartoon of a cat on the front, and the words "What Every Cat Owner Should Know" printed in large, white letters with a thick red line shadowing each word.
Humbert thanked her and sat down in the waiting room, taking the cat and the pamphlet with him. He read about diet, sleeping habits, hygiene, health and general care until he was called into the examination room.
Humbert looked on with a lot of embarrassment and a little horror as the vet poked and prodded at the kitten in some mildly invasive ways. He had to close his eyes when the thermometer was inserted.
The kitten wailed at the indignity, and attempted to scratch the vet for the insult.
The vet then fed worming tablets to the kitten and gave her a couple of jabs, at which point he handed the kitten over to Humbert and declared her to be in surprisingly good health for a kitten just out of the garbage bin.
On seeing the bill, Humbert said that he hoped, very much, that she stayed that way, and wrote the practice a check.
"I'm really sorry about that," he said, strapping the kitten's basket into the front seat. "I really am, I had no idea…" the poor young man couldn't bring himself to mention all those things the vet had done. "Let's go to the pet shop, you can pick out something, and I'll get you a proper bed and travelling cage."
Humbert gave his new kitten one more pat before shutting the passenger door and letting himself in on the driver's side. Half an hour later, they were back home.
"Only thing left is to figure out what I'm going to call you," Humbert said, pouring milky tea – rather than water, or straight milk – into the kitten's new food dish.
The kitten looked at him, her expression almost exactly the same as when she had been making her mind up about the tea.
"Well I can't just call you kitten forever," he explained. "I expect you have a name you call yourself?"
