A random update, my treat to you all, since I'm in a good mood. (Guess who got to see SKILLET live yesterday?)
I do not own TKC.
O-o-O
Carter didn't have anything against cats. Really, he didn't. But he swore that kitten was asking to be turned into a pair of earmuffs, and not in the magical way.
He didn't mind that Bast's presence brought in a bunch of felines—most of the cats just lounged in the sun and minded their own business. Some of them were actually kind of sweet and would curl up on your lap any time you sat down. However, there was one kitten—Minnie, Anisa had called her, since the thing was no bigger than a mouse—who was downright nasty. There was a reason Cleo had started referring to her as Lady Voldemort. The cat seemed to derive cruel pleasure from scratching and biting anyone in reach.
And, because the world was out to get him, Lady Voldemort seemed to find his pillow particularly comfortable.
He glared at the kitten, mewling happily as she clawed at his pillowcase, taunting him with her size (how could something so tiny be so scary?) and deceptive innocence. He wondered idly if he could flip the pillow over fast enough to smother the little beast. Probably not, but it was the thought that counted, after all.
"Shoo," he muttered, striding toward the bed. Lady Voldemort jumped to her feet, hissing, fluffy fur standing straight up in a black poof. He sighed, reaching out to scoop up the little fuzzball and toss it out, when the stupid animal hissed again and sank her teeth into his hand. "Hey!" he said, not that it hurt, but still.
Zia stopped in the doorway, glancing from his scratched hand to the snarling kitten, and smiled. "Come here, Minnie," she said, kneeling on the floor. The disgusting creature straightened out of her crouch, leaped smartly off the bed, and trotted to Zia, leaping into her outstretched arms.
"How?" Carter asked, watching as Zia stood, stroking the purring kitten's back.
She smirked at him, carrying the cat out and saying, "You might want to wash your pillow."
He whirled around and, sure enough, there was a small wet spot on the fabric, reeking of urine.
Wonderful.
O-o-O
Ha, the title probably made you think this would be serious, didn't it?
My neighbor had a black kitten—Minnie—also nicknamed Lady Voldemort, and with good reason, only in that scenario I was Zia. Minnie loved me; I was the only person who could hold her and not die.