At first, he had thought that something in the car was causing the Smell. After a few days, however, it became apparent that whatever it was, it was attached to Hazel. It smelled damp and musty, not unlike the mold that grew in his food dish when it sat unchanged for too long. The Smell was nauseating, but subtle, only making itself known when no other powerful scents like cooking were in the air.
Oh, the thought of the humans' cooking made Rene Descartes' mouth water. He was still fed kibbles on a daily basis, just like at his old home, but now Hazel would slip him bits of meats and pastas and all kinds of other strangely named things that tasted divine. Mom and Dad never did, only shooing him when he asked ("Please, kind Mom, may I have just a small bite of your food?" he would inquire, then be softly pushed away by one of her hind paws), but Hazel always gave him something.
Right, the Smell. The tabby kitten didn't often get carried away thinking about cooking, but the humans' food was simply delicious. Anyway, Rene Descartes decided he'd follow the other two humans in the house for a little while just to see if they carried Hazel's Smell as well. This was not the case. The Smell seemed to stick to Hazel alone, and while he didn't know exactly what it meant, he could tell it wasn't anything good. It made him a bit uneasy, but he still curled up against Hazel's side every night as she went to sleep. The whirring of her dragon, as she called it, was surprisingly soothing, and while she couldn't talk to him while it was over her face, he was reminded of his mother's purr.
Now was such a time, and while the kitten's mind was racing as usual, he could feel himself being lulled to sleep by the dragon's purring and Hazel's paw stroking him softly from head to tail. In no time, he was fast asleep.
"Well, Des," he heard Hazel mutter into her dragon, "another day, another dollar." Roused from his slumber, Rene Descartes raised his head, blinking in the late morning sun.
"What is a 'dollar'?" he asked in response, stretching out his legs.
Hazel lifted her head, her short hair sticking out in all directions. She reached over to pull her silver cylinder to the side of her bed, removing the dragon and placing the pointed parts on the side of the clear tube on the cylinder in her nose. "Somebody's got to bring home the bacon," she continued with a wry smile that was somewhat uneven from sleep.
Eyes growing wide, Rene Descartes jumped down from the bed, bounding over to Hazel's door. "Bacon?" he asked excitedly. She had given him a taste of the heavenly stuff two days prior, and he yearned for more. "Oh, do be the somebody that brings said bacon home!"
Hazel laughed, rising from the bed herself. "What are you so happy about?" she asked.
"I will be happy if I may consume a bit of your delicious bacon, but not a moment sooner!" Rene Descartes passionately exclaimed, shifting his weight from paw to paw.
"You really are adorable, Des," she said with a smile, opening the door to let her kitten out. "I suppose Mom will make scrambled eggs." She sighed. "Why only have scrambled eggs for breakfast?" she asked more quietly, and Rene Descartes had the feeling she wasn't talking to him.