Why's All the Rum Gone?!
Some days, I swear. For the past month, I've been helping my grandmother with her HOA after we get a very sloppy stunt pulled on us (the fact that the guy got away with it is a bitter pill). I did think that since there's been a conclusion, I could get some actual sleep that didn't involve getting a half-hour to doze before dragging people out of bed since no one wants to work my alarm clock but me.
I get a couple of hours of sleep before I hear raised voices and doors slamming. So, thinking another crisis has arisen, I wake up and try to see what's the problem. I get an angry mom who is going through bank statements for the past four months to prove where our money's gone, and a grandmother who is too upset to say anything to me.
I get grandma to calm down, and she starts apologizing to me. Yes, I looked outside to see if the sky was falling. That woman hasn't apologized to me since she threw a stiletto at me when I was seven. I ask her what for, and she goes on about not getting me a birthday present. Now, I'm not one to turn away a free gift, especially when I did little to no effort to deserve it. But I'm nearing the daunting three-oh, and think I'm old enough to not ask for anything but a decent paying job.
Turns out that while going through my stuff (BTW, just because it's laying on my desk, does not mean its open for pilfering!) and found a list of items that I obviously wanted since I didn't tell them what I wanted as gifts anymore, and felt like a bad person that she couldn't afford a gift for me. She was trying to ask my mom where all the money's gone that I get nothing for my birthday, and got my mom angry thinking that she was insinuating we weren't being budget-wise. She conveniently forgot that when one person in an HOA has to pay for work, everyone pays a hefty sum.
So, mom was PO-ed, and was getting proof for where every dollar has gone to prove we weren't being careless with cash. I demanded to see this 'list' I apparently wrote, and after a glance I started laughing to the point of falling to the floor begging for my inhaler.
My grandmother had found a list of items I was going to put on my wishlist on GaiaOnline. Items I was either going to have donated or bought myself. She thought they were real items, and that started the ball rolling to create havoc in our house. By the time I reassured my grandmother and calmed my mom, it was mid-morning and no reason to go back to sleep. So, sleep deprived, stressed, and strangely amused, I found myself finally with something new to share.
Plus, it got me working on an exercise for my novel, which actually showed me the relationship between my main character and his father based on an incident in his childhood. I knew there was animosity there; he was adamantly against his father being near him and wanted to face his problems without him. It wasn't until I did this writing exercise that I realized how far that went and why. In fact, I'm so pround, I'm going to share the exercise. Now, this is a work in progress and the actual story is set almost ten years later, so I'm not going to be spoiling anything or leaving my novel up to nabs.
WARNING: has adult language. Wow, that's a new one for me, only a warning about expletives. So, I'd say the rating is 'T'.
It was by pure luck that Daniel heard it as he was walking from the bus stop after school. Backpack haphazardly slung over one shoulder, he was inbetween songs on his mp3 player and had the majority of his attention on his playlist when he heard the squeak. He paused in his stride, and after a second of hesitation, took off the headphones and hung them around his neck, turning his head on the chance the noise would repeat.
The dull hum of traffic from the major intersection behind him was only punctuated by the occasional honk and shrieking breaks. Daniel looked around for the source of the noise, his eyes casting over the two buildings, one out of business and the other a CPA office, the alley that could barely squeeze in one industrial garbage bin and the wall of a house.
Deciding the noise was probably something from a passing car, he began to put on his headphones when he heard a shuffling sound and that croaking squeal finally came again, more desperate than before. Taking a guess, Daniel walked to the alleyway, his hand slipping in his pocket for his swiss army knife in case the source was malicious. It was dim despite the hot afternoon, the overhanging roof from the office buildings casting an abyss in the narrow passage. Placing his hand on the rubber lid of the bin, he leaned back and, after a few false starts when his hand would slip, he flung the lid back to hit the wall behind it. After no immediate attack by some crazy homeless guy or tweaking junkie, he scooted forward a half-step to peer inside. Black, rancid garbage bags met him first, and the smell of decaying food and old vegetables made him gag and raise his knife-wielding fist to cover the lower half of his face, uselessly warding off the stentch.
The flap of a soggy, beaten-up cardboard box, tapped as something inside hit it, and Daniel felt his stomach clench like a tightening noose against his spine. "Shit," he muttered, "God, don't let it be a baby. Where the fuck do I take a baby?" His mind was telling him to shut the lid, run to the payphone across the street outside the AM-PM, and call it in, thus ending any obligation he had. It didn't stop his curiosity from guiding his hand to the box and began to lift it up, tilting his head sideways to try and peer through the hidden inside.
When a white blob popped out like Jack out of his box, Daniel yelped in a way that teased him about his impending puberty and slipped on some sludge that sent him on his backside. His backpack fell off his shoulder into the same ominous puddle and his elbow, in an attempt to stop his fall, burned when the gravel dug in like a piranha feeding frenzy.
More embarrassed than afraid now, Daniel pushed himself back up and, in a burst of anger-fueled bravado, leaned over the side of the bin for a better look. When the pale gray eyes stared back at him, he felt everything fiery and violent drown in a wave of pity so strong he felt ashamed. The kitten looked more afraid of him than he had been moments before, huddled in the carboard box that was soaked, he now realized, by it's own urine. It couldn't have been longer than his entire palm, and what could have been white fur was yellowish with brownish green blotches. The fluffy, tangled fur, however, didn't hide the obvious emancipated figure. A rosy tongue was peaking between needle-pin canines as the kitten breathed fast, each breath being taken before the previous one fully finished escaping.
He reached his hand in, watching the kitten shy away and try to give a hiss that only sounded more like a whine. When he finally managed to wrap his hand around it's middle, it dug it's tiny claws into his hand. Daniel released it immediately, biting back his own hiss as he took in his bloody appendage. Well, this day was just looking better and better. Ignoring his mauled hand, he reached in again, this time going for the back of the neck.
The kitten immediately went limp, stubby tail tucking between its hind legs as the kitten continued to look up at him, paralized. Daniel brought the kitten close to his face, meeting its gaze and doing his best to ignore the septic smell. He was just hazarding a guess about how to pick up the kitten, only remembering vaguely the stray mama cat he had seen around his neighborhood, constantly moving her litter around to hide from any animal catchers. He put his knife back in his pocket and, awkwardly, cupped the kitten's bottom with his other hand in fear that holding it like that was causing any strain.
The heat radiating from the tiny body was amazing in his hand, almost as hot as the sun breathing down his exposed neck. He squatted down to the ground and, still holding the kitten by the neck, used his knees to replace the other hand as he pulled his bag towards him. He dug around and, finding his old gym shirt, he wrapped it around the tiny body, making doubly sure to trap the mangling claws in the dirty laundry.
Once he secured it by tying the sleeves together, he chanced letting go of the neck. It took some heartbeats before the kitten tried to wiggle out, but the makeshift bundle was holding true. He moved the kitten so it was laying on its stomach instead of its backside, and reached into his bag to pull out his half-empty water bottle. He poured some of the water into the palm of his hand and held it by the kitten's face.
The kitten immediately paused in its struggles to sniff his hand and then the tongue extended, taking a tentative lick of the puddle that managed to stay in his palm. After the first few licks with nothing happening, the kitten began to drink in ernest, only letting out a tiny growl when Daniel began to rub along its spine. Watching the tiny creature drink, feeling the strange tongue catching his skin and tugging away all moisture, he felt like a balloon was inflating inside his chest, and nothing could stop the smile from crossing his lips. He never had a pet before, only knowing once they had a family dog that ran away when he was a toddler. He knew Sarah wanted a cat and their father had mentioned thinking about it. It certainly didn't look much better than a used diarrhea rag, but maybe a bath would make it more appealing.
He was distracted from his musings by his fingertip burning. Looking down, he realized the kitten had licked up every last drop and obviously wanted more. It was breathing slower now, and its tongue was nowhere in sight, but the little mouth was still open and pinching his finger, grey eyes almost challenging him.
"Ow," he let out unnecessarily, but poured more water into his palm. The cat went back to lapping it up, sending droplets spraying in all directions. "I get the feeling this is going to be a continuous war between us, huh?" The cat was almost vibrating, pale eyes closing as Daniel realized with surprised that it was actually purring. He never felt a cat purr before, and as he made sure there was plenty of water in his palm, he continued to take in the rumbling traveling through his knees to resonate in his own body. It was... nice, he decided. Like an accomplishment. He must be doing something right if the brat was purring, right?
Another nip, despite the water still in his hand, so in retaliation, Daniel let the last few drops wiggle from his fingers over the kitten and land on it's head, triangled fuzzy ears and neck. Still purring, the kitten shook its head, spraying him back. "Battle on," Daniel chuckled and used a loose corner of the shirt to dry the stubby muzzle. "Hmm," he murmured. "Battle. That's a nice name, eh?" A paw wiggled free and began to bat at his cleaning hand. "Yeah. Absolutely perfect-ow!"
* * *
The air conditioning hit him in the face, the nearly twenty degree difference a relief on his fevered skin. He shut the door and dropped his bag on the linoleum floor that marked their foyer. His clothes were awful if not destroyed, and he didn't want his backpack dribbling God knew what on the couch. The couch was harder to clean up than the floor.
He made a beeline to the bathroom and, juggling his bundle, stripped down himself and started the tub. The thunderous pound of lukewarm water hitting the tub seemed to renew the fight in Battle, as the tiny being began wiggling out of his hand, syringe-like nails poking through the shirt. Making sure he kicked the door closed with his foot, Daniel worked the cloth until the kitten escaped, fluffed up and scurrying behind the toilet. Daniel couldn't help but laugh at Battle; as fluffed as it was, the kitten looked more like a tribble from Star Trek.
Kneeling down by the tub, Daniel slipped his blood crusted hand into the cool water, letting it get wet before he picked up a leftover washcloth to work his hand clean. The coarse fibers stung as it scrapped over the thin lines Battle had made, but it just encouraged him to rub harder. He heard that sometimes you could get diseases from a cat scratch, and considering where Battle had been when he found it, he wasn't taking any chances. He wasn't looking forward to pouring alcohol over the cuts, though.
When the water reached his elbows, Daniel turned it off, and went back to working a particularly stubborn clot in the area between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't notice the tiny kitten peering out from its hiding place, or how it scurried to come closer to him for protection. Like himself an hour before, though, curiosity seemed to win as Daniel pulled his hand out to inspect it, and caught sight of the kitten jumping up the side of the tub. It lost its footing on landing but quickly recovered without getting wet, and looked into the tub.
"Well, I heard cats don't like water. It was a good idea at the time, but now I don't know if I want to be circumsized by you just to get you clean." Daniel spoke even though inside he was scowling at himself for talking to an animal. It helped, normally, to talk when no one was home to not feel so alone, but there's a difference to talking aloud and talking to a cat. If he started doing baby talk and bubbly names, he decided he'd just do the honorable thing and kill himself.
He straightened and rubbed his knees to ease the ache that lingered from perching on them all afternoon. The kitten backed up to the corner, sitting next to the tiled wall, but Daniel pretended not to notice as he stepped into the water and carefully sank to a sitting position. He picked up the rag from the bottom of the tub and picked up the new bar of soap from the soap-shelf. Usually no one cared what bar was bought to replace the previous one, but Sarah had been taking the habit of putting in more flowery brands, claiming they were better for her skin.
Daniel would cluck his tongue at the unnecessary use of funds, but Brie, in his usual eldest brother wisdom, just shrugged and ignored any looks he got for smelling like strawberries. His father never particularly cared as long as his little girl was happy, so no help there. Taking an experimental sniff of the bar, he couldn't make out an obvious scent, so soaped up his cloth and started scrubbing his legs. He had a feeling that he'd feel part of that disgusting alley for weeks if he didn't scrub as hard as he could.
After a few minutes he had to add more soap, and when he brought up the rag, he looked up and realized the kitten had come back out. Laying down with its tiny paws curled under it's body, tail tucked firmly to its side, its eyes watched through the water at everything Daniel did. As stupid as it was, he felt a little embarrassed. Could pets be voyeuristic? Well, thinking back, he'd seen enough dogs go for crotches that he'd have to say yes.
"Don't drink this water," he warned, "the soap will give you the shits." He felt like hitting himself when the cat looked at him like he said the American anthem in backwards Hebrew. "And why do I talk to you again?"
Satisfied when his legs were so clean they almost squeaked and were a flushed pink, Daniel allowed his knees to bend and sink lower into the water. Battle gave a small start at the move, but settled down faster than he would have thought. With the cool water lapping his chin, Daniel let his head rest on the small alcove and closed his eyes. It was relaxing, just lazing about in water just barely warm. Sarah never understood him, loving her showers just shy of boiling, and if he didn't lock the door, she would occasionally slip in and turn the faucet to hot on him. He would always grumble about it, but knew he could get her back by flushing on her instead.
He rubbed the bar in the rag again, blindly setting it back on its dish, and started to clean his chest. Today was finally catching up with him, and he knew he had to finish and take care of the kitten before he could lay down and relax. Thank heaven the rule was homework was optional before dinner and mainly focused on after the meal. A little nap sounded really good, especially since it was Brie's turn to cook. Probably would come home with more free 'wrong-order' pizzas from work.
The splash startled him from his daze, but it was the yeowling that pushed him into action. He liked his bits very much, and had no intention of finding out what genital piercings would feel like via cat claws. His hands doved into the water without a thought, but he frozed when he cupped them around the kitten. Doing an imitation doggy paddle, the kitten swam around over his body, fur slopping together in a slimy parody of wet silk. The short tail was raised out of the water like a mast, the orange tuft of fur at the end hanging limp as it repeatedly dipped into the water.
Daniel watched the kitten for a few moments, then let out a sigh and leaned back again. "So much for cats hating water." He watched the kitten as she paddled around, and finally satisfied when Battle lifted itself out on the tub rim again before jumping back in, he continued cleaning his body off. He ducked under long enough to wet his hair and run his fingers roughly over his scalp before coming back up for air. Picking up the bottle of Johnson's baby shampoo, he squeezed a glop out before starting to rub it into his hair. The kitten happily chased the foam and bubbles that floated on top of the water, jumping onto the side to rest for a while before belly-flopping back in to play some more.
Ducking under again, Daniel worked out the shampoo and any tangles, hearing his hair sing clean through the muffling water. He came back up and smiled, resting his arms on the tub rim. "Finally I feel human again."
Closing his eyes, he could hear nothing but the occasional splashes of the playful kitten. Mentally, though, he was working out what needed to be done next. Get the cat clean was first and foremost. A mess was a capital offense in this house, after all. Feeding the kitten came next, which made him pause. Obviously Battle could drink water, but did it need milk? Or a teat? How old was Battle; screw that, what gender was it in the first place? He hadn't really looked. Were there any diseases? Broken bones? Starvation was obvious, and--ah, dammit, kittens didn't come potty trained, did they? Suddenly, Battle was looking to be a lot more work and cost a lot more money. Not that money was a problem, but unless it was for Sarah, one better have a good reason for wanting it.
A part of him was saying it wouldn't be a problem, because Sarah would no doubt take over all kitten duties the instant she saw it, well, clean anyway. But Daniel didn't want to give Battle over. He furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze to the ceiling at this revelation. This was a surprise. He'd never been jealous of Sarah before, he adored her almost as much as she adored him and Brie. He didn't spoil her needlessly like their father, but he made her work for things. Loving little sister or not, he would not put up with a spoiled princess, and best to break bad habits before they broke good lives.
Maybe he wanted something of his own. Something to care for, to love, to play with, maybe even curl up with him in bed. Sometimes, despite the loving siblings, he felt very alone. Brie was almost five years older, and would be graduating high school later that year when Daniel wasn't even out of middle school. Sarah had her own life to live, being so outgoing and social, which Daniel was not. His father's distance was a constant he had gotten used to, but many times he would sit at the dining table, watching his family together, and feel like he wasn't even there. He was a stranger passing by, and happened to take a glace through the window. Just once, he told himself, he wanted to have something he can selfishly keep to himself. Sure, everyone might give attention to Battle, but he wanted Battle to ultimately be his.
Feeling a cool spot on his chest, he looked down and watched the drenched furball use his chest like a ramp, climbing up until it was sniffing his nose. Gray eyes closed and the kitten curled up, obviously worn out from the exercise. At least the cat didn't feel like a burnt-out lightbulb anymore. Taking the compliance as his chance, Daniel used some of his shampoo to clean out the stubborn stains still lingering. Battle didn't bother to do much but hang limply from the hand holding it, letting Daniel massage in the shampoo under the thick coat as he made sure to do every crevice, from tail to leg pits, leaving only the head free. That he could clean easier later.
Dunking the kitten half-way into the tub, he used the rapidly cooling water to wash out the suds, repeating two more times before he was satisfied, then he laid the kitten back on his chest and covered its fragile body with his hands, willing it to warm up with his own body heat. The purring response was enough for Daniel, though he added to his mental list to buy cat-safe shampoo. Baby shampoo, however, had to be better than regular shampoo.
Even as the water started to become too cold to feel comfortable with, he didn't feel like moving. He used his toe to unplug the stopper, letting the water drain with a gurgling plop. The tiny triangles perched on Battle's head twitched, but otherwise the kitten made no move of surprise or fear. When most of the water was gone, Daniel removed a hand, groping along the wall until his fingers touched cottan, and he tugged the towel free. He covered it over himself like a blanket, and used it to gently kneed the water from the kittens fur. It took longer than he thought, and it seemed like the fur was made out of sponge from all the water the towel slowly became soaked with. When he pulled the towel away, he had to stiffle a chuckle as the disgruntled cat looked at him.
Dry, Battle looked like it had stuck its tongue into a socket, despite the soft fur patches that laid flat against the small body. Scratching the kitten's forehead in apology, he examined the kitten in a new light. The fur was more cream than white, reminding Daniel of white chocolate. Orange stripes ran along the stubby tail to the orange tip at the end, and what looked like faint freckles sprinkled in sporadic patches on the back, belly and paws. The ears were not dirty, he had discovered, being chocolate pyramids atop the creamy head. A brow spot was directly under the short muzzle, disappearing during Daniel's examination as nearly transparent whiskers spread and curled forward when Battle yawned.
"Well, you don't look like a cat I've ever seen before, but you look better." Daniel cradled the kitten to his chest as he stood from the tub and patted himself dry. Towel around his waist, he bypassed the hamper and instead put his dirty clothes into the washing machine, thankful that they had bought a newer, quieter model just a year prior. The last one would have left him covered in scratches the second he turned it on.
He opened the bathroom door, and hailed to see if anyone had come home while he was in the bathroom. Nothing. He walked upstairs to his bedroom and left the kitten on his pillow as he dug out some clothes to lounge around in. His father and Brie were probably at work, both preferring the afternoon and evening shifts. Daniel figured Sarah was still in her club meeting, so he had another--he checked the clock--hour to take care of the kitten before anyone else came home. While the kitten dozed on his pillow, Daniel walked back downstairs to the study and took the top off of one of the printer paper boxes. Liberating some old newspapers from the recycle bin, Daniel had a makeshift litterbox to start Battle on. He put it on the floor by his desk and decided it was time to start the teaching.
Battle wasn't happy about being woken up, but once in the box, Daniel held it there and tried his best to communicate the box's use. He almost thought he would be looking at weeks of hands on carpet scrubbing when the back legs spread and urine hit the shredded paper. That was easier than he thought it'd be. Daniel sat back to let Battle do its business, wondering if it was a sign Battle was an abandoned kitten who had lived with a human before. Maybe someone had even started training Battle to like water before he was abandoned. But that didn't make sense; why abandon an animal you already put so much effort into?
When the kitten started trying to cover its mess, Daniel shrugged and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hey, more benefits for him. An animal already litterbox trained would just be a plus when he asks to keep it. "Remember to shake it," he said to the kitten as it climbed out. Oh, there was a thought, Daniel realized as he grabbed some tissue from his desk and, grabbing the perk tail, wiped the kitten for lingering piss.
The growl indicated Battle was not happy with this move, and it was only after that Daniel realized he'd never seen anyone doing that to a pet, only babies. Well, at least he had his answer; Battle was a girl.
* * *
Battle liked milk. Battle drank milk like it was her last meal. Despite her meows and Daniel's desire to refill her bowl--an old ice-cream bowl--he decided not to give her more. Kittens needed mothers milk, right? 2% wasn't going to do it if that was the case. He decided he would go to a pet specialty store and see if they had supplements like for babies, and maybe while he was at it, some Kittens for Dummies book.
He soothed his guilt by giving the kitten some liver patée his father kept around. If Battle liked milk, she had a love obsession with the patée. While licking his fingers, she would try to maneuvor a paw into the can, so Daniel had to keep it held high out of her reach. A little bit missing wouldn't hurt, but his father would have Daniel's hide if an entire can disappeared. The disgusting shit was expensive!
Once he was satisfied that the kitten had eaten and peed, he sat down at his desk with his door closed, both for privacy and so the curious kitten wouldn't wander off with her newfound bravery. It was the first time he was using the troll-head pencil his sister had bought him, because Battle was smitten with it. After playing with the kitten, he let it go, watching her hop from the desk with it and drag it around, straddling the pencil with the troll's green hair in her mawl. Leaving Battle to her own devices, he began to outline what he needed to do for her. Necessities came to mind, like toys, food, litter, a vet visit, a collar definitely. He didn't know if he could forgive himself if she ran away like the family dog did.
Did cats go for walks? He tapped the eraser of his pencil to his lips, knowing Ms. Baker down the street walked her obese cat a few houses round trip every day. Somehow, though, the cat seemed to stay fat. He cast his eyes around until he found Battle on his bed, paws clutching the hideous troll as she ran her tongue along the green hair. Some fat would be good, he decided, eyeing the sharpness of her hips and the outline of her ribs. He'd have to be careful that she'd get to a healthy weight and not over it.
His door opened without knocking, making him jump in his seat and hit his knee against his desk. His father appeared in the gap, holding Daniel's bag with exaggerated disgust. "Care to explain?"
Ears burning, Daniel stood from his desk. "Sorry, I forgot. I fell and-"
"-and there's a floor down there that won't clean itself." his father finished and went to sit the bag beside the desk, just to stop short at the sight of the litterbox. The man stared at the box, obviously trying to figure out what he was seeing.
Daniel shifted, then walked to the bed and picked up the wary kitten. "Um... I found her."
His father's dark eyes were now on him and the fluff in his hands. Nervous at the lack of response, Daniel continued, "Someone just dumped her in this garbage bin. She looked like she'd been in there for hours, maybe days. It was so hot out I couldn't just leave her there! And-and, just look at her! Someone must have taken some care of her before she was dumped! She knows to use a litterbox, and she doesn't mind water so baths should be easy."
As Daniel spoke, his father hung the bag on the hook behind Daniel's door and approached, plucking the kitten from Daniel's hands to examine her. "See? She looks healthy, doesn't she?" Daniel amended immediately, "Well, besides being starved. She's really quiet and playful, so I don't think she'd be a problem. I know a kitten can be a lot of work and money, but you can take my allowance for anything she needs, I won't mind! And I'll take care of her, you won't have to do anything! So... can I keep her?"
His skin felt sunburned despite the a/c being on seventy-two, and he had to run his hands along his shorts to wipe away the sweat. His heart was beating loud enough to make him feel deaf and his throat was suddenly dry. His father, holding her expertly by the neck, continued to examine the kitten clinically, nothing giving away what he thought.
Finally, his father turned his eyes to meet Daniel's. "Get an old towel. We'll get an opinion from the vet before I give my answer."
Daniel nodded his head like a puppet before he ran into the hall to get a towel from the linen closet. He still felt so nervous he thought he could faint, but he couldn't stop the hope that added into the emotional juggle. He didn't say no.
* * *
The vet, Daniel decided, was to be avoided unless necessary. The waiting room was just an open space with chairs, dogs barking at each other and cats in crates meowing and hissing. Birds in their cages squawking and flying around added feathers to the air, while the receptionist talked on the phone while she ate a brownie. The crumbs that fell to the desk were swiped away, and the pug on the end attached to the extendable leash, happily wobbled over to eat the chocolate bits as the neglectful owner nodded his head in tune with his iPod.
A nurse in a Snoopy scrub called his name, so he followed his father to an examination room with a sterile, steel table in the middle. "I'm Sandra. Please put the kitten here; what's her name?"
Daniel obeyed, making sure to put the towel down first so she wouldn't get cold. "Battle." The kitten's fur was puffed and she trembled as she looked around. Immediately, Daniel rested his hand on her back to try and comfort her.
The nurse rambled on a bit for statistics, made a pitying sound at the story of her discovery, but seemed to sense the two's need for each other and had Daniel participate in her vitals. He got Battle to stay on the scale after two aborted escape attempts and held her front paws as the thermometer was inserted. Her growls were ignored, but Daniel completely agreed with his kitten. With all the new medical discoveries and technologies, they still stuck sticks up a cat's ass for a temperature?
When the nurse left with promises of the doctor coming soon, Daniel took the opportunity to wrap Battle back up and hold her as he sat down. His father, a silent specter during the whole time, only remarked, "You'll just have to put it back when the vet comes in."
"She was cold," Daniel retorted, head down to hide his annoyed expression. "She's still just a kitten."
"It's a cat," His father grunted as he tried to get comfortable in the cheap plastic chair. "Keep it up and it'll get spoiled."
Daniel didn't reply and the silence filled the room until the vet came in. He was an older man, graying at the temple, but Daniel liked the kindness in the man's face when he spotted the kitten in Daniel's arms and smiled. "I'm Dr. Kahn, and this must be Battle."
The doctor stopped Daniel, who had already stood up to put her back on the table. "No, no, that won't be necessary right now. I'll look at her in a minute, just let me get a better idea of her file first. It's been a busy afternoon."
Sitting back down, Daniel cuddled Battle closer, and felt her cold, wet nose nuzzle into his neck. He hated being tickled, but let it go as she seemed to calm when sniffing his scent. The vet was a fast reader, but took his time with each page in the new file before snapping it closed and rolling over on his stool. "Alright, let me have a look." He tugged the blanket away, noting Daniel's hand, "I guess her feistiness earned her the name Battle?"
Daniel smiled at the joke, and took a glance at the hand. It looked like an advertisement for Band-Aid brand. "We didn't have gauze in the house."
In Daniel's arms, the doctor took a light to look in her ear, lifted her lips to examine her teeth, and after hearing the story, that by now Daniel was getting tired of repeating, he asked Daniel to lay her down for him. So, back down went the towel and then the kitten. The smile turned into a frown on the doctor's face, "Yes, she is very underweight. Have you given her any food?"
Cheeks heating up, Daniel glanced at his father and muttered, "Some milk and liver patée. She drank a lot of water earlier, though."
"Hmm, I might put her on a drip just in case. Dehydration is not something to be taken lightly." Catching Daniel's gaze, the doctor's expression softened. "If an animal gets dehydrated, use clear baby pedialyte." He laughed at Daniel's confusion before he had chance to voice it. "Well, you saved one stray. I find most people don't stop once they start. I might as well give you as much information as I can."
As long as Daniel stayed in her line of sight, Battle seemed to stay calm at the doctor's gentle prodding and touches. "You might be right. She seems to be around three months old, and she could be older if she's the runt. Really can't tell until she's gone into her first heat, since that usually happens at six months. Most kittens abandoned immediately are hard to save and can't survive for very long. Her claws... hmm, yes, I think she was probably abandoned after having lived with an owner."
"How can anyone abandon a cat they've taken care of since they were born?" Daniel asked, bothered more than he thought he should.
Dr. Kahn sighed but seemed resigned, not annoyed. "Sometimes people can't take care of a pet for long. Most leave them at a shelter or the pound, but some just dump them off somewhere and leave. Not everyone develops a deep connection to their pet. Some don't even see them as living beings. It's cruel, but it's a reality." The doctor shook his head, "I've even seen a woman drop a pair of pure-bred Rexs at my office, ordering me to put them down. One of my orderlies were able to learn that she was divorcing her cheating husband, and decided to hurt him by killing his cats. Thankfully, since they were pure-bred, I was able to contact the husband and he picked them up. The association likes to keep track of the bloodlines, you see."
Mouth dry, Daniel bit the inside of his cheek and tried to swallow back the bile threatening to rise. "That's sick."
When the vet put his stethoscope on, Daniel quieted down so the doctor could listen to Battle's heart. She looked up at him halfway cranky and halfway pouting. He smiled at her and leaned down to eskimo kiss her. Her furry brow against his was warm and soft, and he let it hover there, just enjoying the connection. She stayed still, purring just low enough to be called a whisper, making his smile widen.
"Hmm." Dr Kahn pulled back, and Daniel snapped his head up. That didn't sound like a good 'hmm'. "She has a heart murmur."
"A what? Is it serious?" Daniel asked, and told his heart to slow down because he wanted to hear this.
Dr. Kahn wrote his discovery in the file as he replied, "Well, it means her heart makes an unusual sound. You know how a heart normally sounds?" Daniel nodded. "It's the same for cats as it is for humans, just faster. Heart murmurs, however, are rather common. Even in perfectly healthy children, most will have a heart murmur heard by a doctor once in their life. It's not uncommon for kittens, either. Most outgrow it by the time they're half a year old."
The doctor put a hand on Battle and started to pet her, "While most are innocent, though, they can become a problem. Sometimes a heart murmur indicates there's a defect in the heart, such as blood leaking out of the valves, and dehydration or starvation can make it much worse. We really can't tell how serious it is unless we do an ultrasound on the heart."
Daniel felt the blood in his body chill and pool in his feet. "Does it hurt her?"
"No!" Dr. Kahn rushed. "No, an ultrasound is just using a handheld device and pressing it against Battle's chest to get back a live picture of her heart as it works. Even if she were to need surgery, we wouldn't let her be hurt, son, I promise."
Lowering his head, Daniel started to run his fingers under Battle's chin, intensifying her purring. "Um," his voice squeaked, and he had to clear his throat and try again. "How much does it cost?"
Even with his head lowered, he saw Dr. Kahn look at his father still sitting in the chair, like a bored audience. "A little over a hundred dollars. I can have someone run up an estimate if you'd like. But, know that I've seen many cats, almost all with some form of heart murmurs, and even the ones with very loud murmurs have lived long, healthy lives with it. It all depends on keeping up to date on vaccines, visits, along with a good diet and lifestyle."
Taking a breath, Daniel tried to calm himself down, focusing on Battle and the rhythmic motion of petting her. Her purring helped, and after a few breaths he no longer felt like he was about to faint. Opening his eyes, he jumped to see his father now standing beside him, looking at him with a blank face. He held his father's gaze, silently begging to know how bad her murmur was. A few hundred dollars was more than anything Daniel had ever asked for, but even he could see why it was needed. He'd swear off all his allowance, he'd even find a way to pay him back, if he'd just do the ultrasound.
* * *
When his bedroom door opened, Daniel refused to look over. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw his father, probably throw something at the man, or curse him out. God help him if the man said one snid thing about Daniel crying in his pillow. It wasn't a girl thing and he was fucking allowed to cry whenever the fuck he wanted to!
His bed dipped and a hand rubbed along his back, larger than Sarah's but smaller than his father's. "I came home early."
"Why?" Daniel rubbed his face into his pillow before turning over to look up at his brother.
Brie stared down at him, and moved his hand up to smooth down Daniel's hair. "Sarah called me. She said you found a kitten but we couldn't keep it. Maybe she's a little naive or doesn't understand things, but I knew what it meant. You needed me."
The tears were stinging across his eyes again, and with no hesitation he sat up and grabbed his brother. Brie wrapped his arms around Daniel and pulled him into his lap, rocking as Daniel sobbed against his shoulder. "He fucking put her down! He made me watch and wouldn't let them keep her for fostering or anything and he killed her! He wouldn't even let me have her ashes, wouldn't even let them cremate her!" He was hiccupping between words and yelling in Brie's ear the more upset he got, but he continued as his brother continued to listen. "Some asshole dropped her off in that bin to let her die, and I found her and thought I could give her a home, a life, and they're going to dump her dead body right back in that goddamn bin!"
He didn't know how long it took him to cry, to rant, to hate his father and Dr. Kahn and the law and even himself, but he knew all it left him with was a snotty face, a pounding headache and a very important piece of himself still hurting with the loss of Battle. Less than a day was how long he had her, and he felt like he lost his mother all over again. Pulling away from his brothers shoulder, he took a few shaky breaths before leaning his brow against his brother's stubbled cheek. At least God gave him something; his brother, who had the best hugs in the whole world. It didn't help the pain, and it didn't bring Battle back, but they always made him feel so much better.
Brie's eyes looked moist too, but his voice was steady as he whispered into Daniel's hair, "I doubt you remember her, but the family dog dad talked about once in a while? Her name was Alice. She was really Mom's dog, y'know how Mom loved the book Through the Looking-Glass." Actually, Daniel hadn't known that about Mom, and at that moment he wondered how lonely Brie must be, being one of two people in the family who remembered their mother at all. "After Mom died, well, Dad became Dad, I guess you could say. He shut us out and poured all his attention and love to Sarah, but she was a baby, so... yeah." And Daniel did understand. He couldn't fault her that, especially not then.
"One day, Alice slipped the leash, and went chasing after a car. She tripped on her leash and got hit by another car. She was lucky, was what the vet said. A broken leg that would heal properly once they took care of it. Dad put her down. Said we couldn't afford it, and he couldn't babysit his children and a crippled dog at the same time, especially since we couldn't hold on to her. His words, mind. It hurt, like our last piece of Mom was being ripped from our hands when it didn't have to be. You were really upset, trying to call for Alice and she'd never come. I would try to tell you, and I'm sorry, but eventually I got angry at you for not understanding. I'd belt you over the head if you asked, or I'd yell at you. And when you'd get really upset, you'd sneak out to her doghouse and lay inside. That ate me up everytime I saw it, and I eventually realized I was becoming like Dad." Brie sighed and tightened his hold on Daniel. "Two against the world; we were all we had at that time. Dad had enough, though, and took an ax to the doghouse. Eventually, you forgot about Alice, or at least how much she meant to you, and I had hoped you never felt that pain again."
A silence began that stretched around the two in a tableau before Daniel shifted and leaned back a little, "What about you?"
That cocky half-grin that always grated on his nerves no longer looked so confident as his brother mock-strangled him. "Idiot. I'm far more wise than you are. I learned that Mom will never leave. I still had my memories of her, and I see her everytime I look at you and Sarah. That eased the pain a lot, and unless I lose you two, I think I'm going to be okay." Letting Daniel slide out of his lap, he gave a one-armed hug before standing. "You didn't have long with the cat, but you have memories of her. Keep remembering the good ones, and it'll start hurting less. Dad took her from you, but don't let him take your memories of her." Brie pulled the door so it was mostly closed as he left Daniel alone, and the smell of pizza wafting upstairs made him both nauseous and hungry.
He wiped his face, considering getting a cool wet washcloth to help his head. When he put his foot on the carpet, though, he felt something pinch it. Looking down, he reached for it in the dimness of his room and when he finally picked it up, he was staring back at the gnawed, spiked head of the ugly troll pencil Sarah had given him. His chest constricted as he bit back the sadness, remembering how adorable Battle had looked, contently playing with the doll. Walking to his desk, he turned on the table light and pulled out his swiss army knife. Carefully, not needing another cut on his hands, he carved into the pencil 'BATTLE' and wrote the date underneath it in awkward, blocky letters. It wasn't the most beautiful monument, but he didn't want to forget her as time passed, like he did with Alice. He then knelt on the floor and pulled out the old army tackle box he got long ago at a garage sale, and opened it up. His important papers were in there, along with copies of his grades and social security number. A few pictures of Mom was there, mostly on family outings, but he managed to find one where she was heavily pregnant, aglow even as she napped in her rocking chair. He put the pencil inside, snapped it shut and put it back under the bed.
He didn't care that he was feeling sick. Brie was right; he couldn't let Dad win this, too. Crossing the room, he opened his door and made his way to the kitchen, where he was greeted enthusiastically by Sarah. Brie smiled at him as he handed him a plate with some pizza slices on it, while his father just stared from where he was eating. Daniel met his gaze, tilting his chin up before ignoring him in favor of his sister. Of course, she wanted to know about the kitten, and after three questions, she realized how red his eyes were, and instead asked him at least four times if he would be alright. He smiled at her, taking in her blooming form. She may have their father's eyes, but the soft curve of her face was their mother, as was the cooling embers red hair. Looking at Brie as he sat down with his own place across from them, his brother took a huge bite out of his food and began chewing with his mouth opening between each chew, distracting Sarah as she squealed and smacked Brie's arm for having no manners. The knee that nudged his was enough acknowledgement, though.
Let his father see his face, he had the right to cry. He had feelings, and he wouldn't throw them away like his father had. "I'll be okay, Princess," he calmed his sister, and start to eat before she could ask anything else.
|*|
I hope it was an enjoyable read, and maybe a little teary-eyed? That's okay, it made me cry writing it and then reading it over. I'm writing, at least, maybe I should leave more 'lists' laying around to guilt-trip my grandmother into letting me have more writing time? ... nah, leaving her and my mom alone too much is like checking the gastank with a match--eventually it'll blow up in your face. *le sigh* I guess I'll satisfy myself with a drink then. Here vodka, vodka, vodka!
I get a couple of hours of sleep before I hear raised voices and doors slamming. So, thinking another crisis has arisen, I wake up and try to see what's the problem. I get an angry mom who is going through bank statements for the past four months to prove where our money's gone, and a grandmother who is too upset to say anything to me.
I get grandma to calm down, and she starts apologizing to me. Yes, I looked outside to see if the sky was falling. That woman hasn't apologized to me since she threw a stiletto at me when I was seven. I ask her what for, and she goes on about not getting me a birthday present. Now, I'm not one to turn away a free gift, especially when I did little to no effort to deserve it. But I'm nearing the daunting three-oh, and think I'm old enough to not ask for anything but a decent paying job.
Turns out that while going through my stuff (BTW, just because it's laying on my desk, does not mean its open for pilfering!) and found a list of items that I obviously wanted since I didn't tell them what I wanted as gifts anymore, and felt like a bad person that she couldn't afford a gift for me. She was trying to ask my mom where all the money's gone that I get nothing for my birthday, and got my mom angry thinking that she was insinuating we weren't being budget-wise. She conveniently forgot that when one person in an HOA has to pay for work, everyone pays a hefty sum.
So, mom was PO-ed, and was getting proof for where every dollar has gone to prove we weren't being careless with cash. I demanded to see this 'list' I apparently wrote, and after a glance I started laughing to the point of falling to the floor begging for my inhaler.
My grandmother had found a list of items I was going to put on my wishlist on GaiaOnline. Items I was either going to have donated or bought myself. She thought they were real items, and that started the ball rolling to create havoc in our house. By the time I reassured my grandmother and calmed my mom, it was mid-morning and no reason to go back to sleep. So, sleep deprived, stressed, and strangely amused, I found myself finally with something new to share.
Plus, it got me working on an exercise for my novel, which actually showed me the relationship between my main character and his father based on an incident in his childhood. I knew there was animosity there; he was adamantly against his father being near him and wanted to face his problems without him. It wasn't until I did this writing exercise that I realized how far that went and why. In fact, I'm so pround, I'm going to share the exercise. Now, this is a work in progress and the actual story is set almost ten years later, so I'm not going to be spoiling anything or leaving my novel up to nabs.
WARNING: has adult language. Wow, that's a new one for me, only a warning about expletives. So, I'd say the rating is 'T'.
It was by pure luck that Daniel heard it as he was walking from the bus stop after school. Backpack haphazardly slung over one shoulder, he was inbetween songs on his mp3 player and had the majority of his attention on his playlist when he heard the squeak. He paused in his stride, and after a second of hesitation, took off the headphones and hung them around his neck, turning his head on the chance the noise would repeat.
The dull hum of traffic from the major intersection behind him was only punctuated by the occasional honk and shrieking breaks. Daniel looked around for the source of the noise, his eyes casting over the two buildings, one out of business and the other a CPA office, the alley that could barely squeeze in one industrial garbage bin and the wall of a house.
Deciding the noise was probably something from a passing car, he began to put on his headphones when he heard a shuffling sound and that croaking squeal finally came again, more desperate than before. Taking a guess, Daniel walked to the alleyway, his hand slipping in his pocket for his swiss army knife in case the source was malicious. It was dim despite the hot afternoon, the overhanging roof from the office buildings casting an abyss in the narrow passage. Placing his hand on the rubber lid of the bin, he leaned back and, after a few false starts when his hand would slip, he flung the lid back to hit the wall behind it. After no immediate attack by some crazy homeless guy or tweaking junkie, he scooted forward a half-step to peer inside. Black, rancid garbage bags met him first, and the smell of decaying food and old vegetables made him gag and raise his knife-wielding fist to cover the lower half of his face, uselessly warding off the stentch.
The flap of a soggy, beaten-up cardboard box, tapped as something inside hit it, and Daniel felt his stomach clench like a tightening noose against his spine. "Shit," he muttered, "God, don't let it be a baby. Where the fuck do I take a baby?" His mind was telling him to shut the lid, run to the payphone across the street outside the AM-PM, and call it in, thus ending any obligation he had. It didn't stop his curiosity from guiding his hand to the box and began to lift it up, tilting his head sideways to try and peer through the hidden inside.
When a white blob popped out like Jack out of his box, Daniel yelped in a way that teased him about his impending puberty and slipped on some sludge that sent him on his backside. His backpack fell off his shoulder into the same ominous puddle and his elbow, in an attempt to stop his fall, burned when the gravel dug in like a piranha feeding frenzy.
More embarrassed than afraid now, Daniel pushed himself back up and, in a burst of anger-fueled bravado, leaned over the side of the bin for a better look. When the pale gray eyes stared back at him, he felt everything fiery and violent drown in a wave of pity so strong he felt ashamed. The kitten looked more afraid of him than he had been moments before, huddled in the carboard box that was soaked, he now realized, by it's own urine. It couldn't have been longer than his entire palm, and what could have been white fur was yellowish with brownish green blotches. The fluffy, tangled fur, however, didn't hide the obvious emancipated figure. A rosy tongue was peaking between needle-pin canines as the kitten breathed fast, each breath being taken before the previous one fully finished escaping.
He reached his hand in, watching the kitten shy away and try to give a hiss that only sounded more like a whine. When he finally managed to wrap his hand around it's middle, it dug it's tiny claws into his hand. Daniel released it immediately, biting back his own hiss as he took in his bloody appendage. Well, this day was just looking better and better. Ignoring his mauled hand, he reached in again, this time going for the back of the neck.
The kitten immediately went limp, stubby tail tucking between its hind legs as the kitten continued to look up at him, paralized. Daniel brought the kitten close to his face, meeting its gaze and doing his best to ignore the septic smell. He was just hazarding a guess about how to pick up the kitten, only remembering vaguely the stray mama cat he had seen around his neighborhood, constantly moving her litter around to hide from any animal catchers. He put his knife back in his pocket and, awkwardly, cupped the kitten's bottom with his other hand in fear that holding it like that was causing any strain.
The heat radiating from the tiny body was amazing in his hand, almost as hot as the sun breathing down his exposed neck. He squatted down to the ground and, still holding the kitten by the neck, used his knees to replace the other hand as he pulled his bag towards him. He dug around and, finding his old gym shirt, he wrapped it around the tiny body, making doubly sure to trap the mangling claws in the dirty laundry.
Once he secured it by tying the sleeves together, he chanced letting go of the neck. It took some heartbeats before the kitten tried to wiggle out, but the makeshift bundle was holding true. He moved the kitten so it was laying on its stomach instead of its backside, and reached into his bag to pull out his half-empty water bottle. He poured some of the water into the palm of his hand and held it by the kitten's face.
The kitten immediately paused in its struggles to sniff his hand and then the tongue extended, taking a tentative lick of the puddle that managed to stay in his palm. After the first few licks with nothing happening, the kitten began to drink in ernest, only letting out a tiny growl when Daniel began to rub along its spine. Watching the tiny creature drink, feeling the strange tongue catching his skin and tugging away all moisture, he felt like a balloon was inflating inside his chest, and nothing could stop the smile from crossing his lips. He never had a pet before, only knowing once they had a family dog that ran away when he was a toddler. He knew Sarah wanted a cat and their father had mentioned thinking about it. It certainly didn't look much better than a used diarrhea rag, but maybe a bath would make it more appealing.
He was distracted from his musings by his fingertip burning. Looking down, he realized the kitten had licked up every last drop and obviously wanted more. It was breathing slower now, and its tongue was nowhere in sight, but the little mouth was still open and pinching his finger, grey eyes almost challenging him.
"Ow," he let out unnecessarily, but poured more water into his palm. The cat went back to lapping it up, sending droplets spraying in all directions. "I get the feeling this is going to be a continuous war between us, huh?" The cat was almost vibrating, pale eyes closing as Daniel realized with surprised that it was actually purring. He never felt a cat purr before, and as he made sure there was plenty of water in his palm, he continued to take in the rumbling traveling through his knees to resonate in his own body. It was... nice, he decided. Like an accomplishment. He must be doing something right if the brat was purring, right?
Another nip, despite the water still in his hand, so in retaliation, Daniel let the last few drops wiggle from his fingers over the kitten and land on it's head, triangled fuzzy ears and neck. Still purring, the kitten shook its head, spraying him back. "Battle on," Daniel chuckled and used a loose corner of the shirt to dry the stubby muzzle. "Hmm," he murmured. "Battle. That's a nice name, eh?" A paw wiggled free and began to bat at his cleaning hand. "Yeah. Absolutely perfect-ow!"
* * *
The air conditioning hit him in the face, the nearly twenty degree difference a relief on his fevered skin. He shut the door and dropped his bag on the linoleum floor that marked their foyer. His clothes were awful if not destroyed, and he didn't want his backpack dribbling God knew what on the couch. The couch was harder to clean up than the floor.
He made a beeline to the bathroom and, juggling his bundle, stripped down himself and started the tub. The thunderous pound of lukewarm water hitting the tub seemed to renew the fight in Battle, as the tiny being began wiggling out of his hand, syringe-like nails poking through the shirt. Making sure he kicked the door closed with his foot, Daniel worked the cloth until the kitten escaped, fluffed up and scurrying behind the toilet. Daniel couldn't help but laugh at Battle; as fluffed as it was, the kitten looked more like a tribble from Star Trek.
Kneeling down by the tub, Daniel slipped his blood crusted hand into the cool water, letting it get wet before he picked up a leftover washcloth to work his hand clean. The coarse fibers stung as it scrapped over the thin lines Battle had made, but it just encouraged him to rub harder. He heard that sometimes you could get diseases from a cat scratch, and considering where Battle had been when he found it, he wasn't taking any chances. He wasn't looking forward to pouring alcohol over the cuts, though.
When the water reached his elbows, Daniel turned it off, and went back to working a particularly stubborn clot in the area between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't notice the tiny kitten peering out from its hiding place, or how it scurried to come closer to him for protection. Like himself an hour before, though, curiosity seemed to win as Daniel pulled his hand out to inspect it, and caught sight of the kitten jumping up the side of the tub. It lost its footing on landing but quickly recovered without getting wet, and looked into the tub.
"Well, I heard cats don't like water. It was a good idea at the time, but now I don't know if I want to be circumsized by you just to get you clean." Daniel spoke even though inside he was scowling at himself for talking to an animal. It helped, normally, to talk when no one was home to not feel so alone, but there's a difference to talking aloud and talking to a cat. If he started doing baby talk and bubbly names, he decided he'd just do the honorable thing and kill himself.
He straightened and rubbed his knees to ease the ache that lingered from perching on them all afternoon. The kitten backed up to the corner, sitting next to the tiled wall, but Daniel pretended not to notice as he stepped into the water and carefully sank to a sitting position. He picked up the rag from the bottom of the tub and picked up the new bar of soap from the soap-shelf. Usually no one cared what bar was bought to replace the previous one, but Sarah had been taking the habit of putting in more flowery brands, claiming they were better for her skin.
Daniel would cluck his tongue at the unnecessary use of funds, but Brie, in his usual eldest brother wisdom, just shrugged and ignored any looks he got for smelling like strawberries. His father never particularly cared as long as his little girl was happy, so no help there. Taking an experimental sniff of the bar, he couldn't make out an obvious scent, so soaped up his cloth and started scrubbing his legs. He had a feeling that he'd feel part of that disgusting alley for weeks if he didn't scrub as hard as he could.
After a few minutes he had to add more soap, and when he brought up the rag, he looked up and realized the kitten had come back out. Laying down with its tiny paws curled under it's body, tail tucked firmly to its side, its eyes watched through the water at everything Daniel did. As stupid as it was, he felt a little embarrassed. Could pets be voyeuristic? Well, thinking back, he'd seen enough dogs go for crotches that he'd have to say yes.
"Don't drink this water," he warned, "the soap will give you the shits." He felt like hitting himself when the cat looked at him like he said the American anthem in backwards Hebrew. "And why do I talk to you again?"
Satisfied when his legs were so clean they almost squeaked and were a flushed pink, Daniel allowed his knees to bend and sink lower into the water. Battle gave a small start at the move, but settled down faster than he would have thought. With the cool water lapping his chin, Daniel let his head rest on the small alcove and closed his eyes. It was relaxing, just lazing about in water just barely warm. Sarah never understood him, loving her showers just shy of boiling, and if he didn't lock the door, she would occasionally slip in and turn the faucet to hot on him. He would always grumble about it, but knew he could get her back by flushing on her instead.
He rubbed the bar in the rag again, blindly setting it back on its dish, and started to clean his chest. Today was finally catching up with him, and he knew he had to finish and take care of the kitten before he could lay down and relax. Thank heaven the rule was homework was optional before dinner and mainly focused on after the meal. A little nap sounded really good, especially since it was Brie's turn to cook. Probably would come home with more free 'wrong-order' pizzas from work.
The splash startled him from his daze, but it was the yeowling that pushed him into action. He liked his bits very much, and had no intention of finding out what genital piercings would feel like via cat claws. His hands doved into the water without a thought, but he frozed when he cupped them around the kitten. Doing an imitation doggy paddle, the kitten swam around over his body, fur slopping together in a slimy parody of wet silk. The short tail was raised out of the water like a mast, the orange tuft of fur at the end hanging limp as it repeatedly dipped into the water.
Daniel watched the kitten for a few moments, then let out a sigh and leaned back again. "So much for cats hating water." He watched the kitten as she paddled around, and finally satisfied when Battle lifted itself out on the tub rim again before jumping back in, he continued cleaning his body off. He ducked under long enough to wet his hair and run his fingers roughly over his scalp before coming back up for air. Picking up the bottle of Johnson's baby shampoo, he squeezed a glop out before starting to rub it into his hair. The kitten happily chased the foam and bubbles that floated on top of the water, jumping onto the side to rest for a while before belly-flopping back in to play some more.
Ducking under again, Daniel worked out the shampoo and any tangles, hearing his hair sing clean through the muffling water. He came back up and smiled, resting his arms on the tub rim. "Finally I feel human again."
Closing his eyes, he could hear nothing but the occasional splashes of the playful kitten. Mentally, though, he was working out what needed to be done next. Get the cat clean was first and foremost. A mess was a capital offense in this house, after all. Feeding the kitten came next, which made him pause. Obviously Battle could drink water, but did it need milk? Or a teat? How old was Battle; screw that, what gender was it in the first place? He hadn't really looked. Were there any diseases? Broken bones? Starvation was obvious, and--ah, dammit, kittens didn't come potty trained, did they? Suddenly, Battle was looking to be a lot more work and cost a lot more money. Not that money was a problem, but unless it was for Sarah, one better have a good reason for wanting it.
A part of him was saying it wouldn't be a problem, because Sarah would no doubt take over all kitten duties the instant she saw it, well, clean anyway. But Daniel didn't want to give Battle over. He furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze to the ceiling at this revelation. This was a surprise. He'd never been jealous of Sarah before, he adored her almost as much as she adored him and Brie. He didn't spoil her needlessly like their father, but he made her work for things. Loving little sister or not, he would not put up with a spoiled princess, and best to break bad habits before they broke good lives.
Maybe he wanted something of his own. Something to care for, to love, to play with, maybe even curl up with him in bed. Sometimes, despite the loving siblings, he felt very alone. Brie was almost five years older, and would be graduating high school later that year when Daniel wasn't even out of middle school. Sarah had her own life to live, being so outgoing and social, which Daniel was not. His father's distance was a constant he had gotten used to, but many times he would sit at the dining table, watching his family together, and feel like he wasn't even there. He was a stranger passing by, and happened to take a glace through the window. Just once, he told himself, he wanted to have something he can selfishly keep to himself. Sure, everyone might give attention to Battle, but he wanted Battle to ultimately be his.
Feeling a cool spot on his chest, he looked down and watched the drenched furball use his chest like a ramp, climbing up until it was sniffing his nose. Gray eyes closed and the kitten curled up, obviously worn out from the exercise. At least the cat didn't feel like a burnt-out lightbulb anymore. Taking the compliance as his chance, Daniel used some of his shampoo to clean out the stubborn stains still lingering. Battle didn't bother to do much but hang limply from the hand holding it, letting Daniel massage in the shampoo under the thick coat as he made sure to do every crevice, from tail to leg pits, leaving only the head free. That he could clean easier later.
Dunking the kitten half-way into the tub, he used the rapidly cooling water to wash out the suds, repeating two more times before he was satisfied, then he laid the kitten back on his chest and covered its fragile body with his hands, willing it to warm up with his own body heat. The purring response was enough for Daniel, though he added to his mental list to buy cat-safe shampoo. Baby shampoo, however, had to be better than regular shampoo.
Even as the water started to become too cold to feel comfortable with, he didn't feel like moving. He used his toe to unplug the stopper, letting the water drain with a gurgling plop. The tiny triangles perched on Battle's head twitched, but otherwise the kitten made no move of surprise or fear. When most of the water was gone, Daniel removed a hand, groping along the wall until his fingers touched cottan, and he tugged the towel free. He covered it over himself like a blanket, and used it to gently kneed the water from the kittens fur. It took longer than he thought, and it seemed like the fur was made out of sponge from all the water the towel slowly became soaked with. When he pulled the towel away, he had to stiffle a chuckle as the disgruntled cat looked at him.
Dry, Battle looked like it had stuck its tongue into a socket, despite the soft fur patches that laid flat against the small body. Scratching the kitten's forehead in apology, he examined the kitten in a new light. The fur was more cream than white, reminding Daniel of white chocolate. Orange stripes ran along the stubby tail to the orange tip at the end, and what looked like faint freckles sprinkled in sporadic patches on the back, belly and paws. The ears were not dirty, he had discovered, being chocolate pyramids atop the creamy head. A brow spot was directly under the short muzzle, disappearing during Daniel's examination as nearly transparent whiskers spread and curled forward when Battle yawned.
"Well, you don't look like a cat I've ever seen before, but you look better." Daniel cradled the kitten to his chest as he stood from the tub and patted himself dry. Towel around his waist, he bypassed the hamper and instead put his dirty clothes into the washing machine, thankful that they had bought a newer, quieter model just a year prior. The last one would have left him covered in scratches the second he turned it on.
He opened the bathroom door, and hailed to see if anyone had come home while he was in the bathroom. Nothing. He walked upstairs to his bedroom and left the kitten on his pillow as he dug out some clothes to lounge around in. His father and Brie were probably at work, both preferring the afternoon and evening shifts. Daniel figured Sarah was still in her club meeting, so he had another--he checked the clock--hour to take care of the kitten before anyone else came home. While the kitten dozed on his pillow, Daniel walked back downstairs to the study and took the top off of one of the printer paper boxes. Liberating some old newspapers from the recycle bin, Daniel had a makeshift litterbox to start Battle on. He put it on the floor by his desk and decided it was time to start the teaching.
Battle wasn't happy about being woken up, but once in the box, Daniel held it there and tried his best to communicate the box's use. He almost thought he would be looking at weeks of hands on carpet scrubbing when the back legs spread and urine hit the shredded paper. That was easier than he thought it'd be. Daniel sat back to let Battle do its business, wondering if it was a sign Battle was an abandoned kitten who had lived with a human before. Maybe someone had even started training Battle to like water before he was abandoned. But that didn't make sense; why abandon an animal you already put so much effort into?
When the kitten started trying to cover its mess, Daniel shrugged and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hey, more benefits for him. An animal already litterbox trained would just be a plus when he asks to keep it. "Remember to shake it," he said to the kitten as it climbed out. Oh, there was a thought, Daniel realized as he grabbed some tissue from his desk and, grabbing the perk tail, wiped the kitten for lingering piss.
The growl indicated Battle was not happy with this move, and it was only after that Daniel realized he'd never seen anyone doing that to a pet, only babies. Well, at least he had his answer; Battle was a girl.
* * *
Battle liked milk. Battle drank milk like it was her last meal. Despite her meows and Daniel's desire to refill her bowl--an old ice-cream bowl--he decided not to give her more. Kittens needed mothers milk, right? 2% wasn't going to do it if that was the case. He decided he would go to a pet specialty store and see if they had supplements like for babies, and maybe while he was at it, some Kittens for Dummies book.
He soothed his guilt by giving the kitten some liver patée his father kept around. If Battle liked milk, she had a love obsession with the patée. While licking his fingers, she would try to maneuvor a paw into the can, so Daniel had to keep it held high out of her reach. A little bit missing wouldn't hurt, but his father would have Daniel's hide if an entire can disappeared. The disgusting shit was expensive!
Once he was satisfied that the kitten had eaten and peed, he sat down at his desk with his door closed, both for privacy and so the curious kitten wouldn't wander off with her newfound bravery. It was the first time he was using the troll-head pencil his sister had bought him, because Battle was smitten with it. After playing with the kitten, he let it go, watching her hop from the desk with it and drag it around, straddling the pencil with the troll's green hair in her mawl. Leaving Battle to her own devices, he began to outline what he needed to do for her. Necessities came to mind, like toys, food, litter, a vet visit, a collar definitely. He didn't know if he could forgive himself if she ran away like the family dog did.
Did cats go for walks? He tapped the eraser of his pencil to his lips, knowing Ms. Baker down the street walked her obese cat a few houses round trip every day. Somehow, though, the cat seemed to stay fat. He cast his eyes around until he found Battle on his bed, paws clutching the hideous troll as she ran her tongue along the green hair. Some fat would be good, he decided, eyeing the sharpness of her hips and the outline of her ribs. He'd have to be careful that she'd get to a healthy weight and not over it.
His door opened without knocking, making him jump in his seat and hit his knee against his desk. His father appeared in the gap, holding Daniel's bag with exaggerated disgust. "Care to explain?"
Ears burning, Daniel stood from his desk. "Sorry, I forgot. I fell and-"
"-and there's a floor down there that won't clean itself." his father finished and went to sit the bag beside the desk, just to stop short at the sight of the litterbox. The man stared at the box, obviously trying to figure out what he was seeing.
Daniel shifted, then walked to the bed and picked up the wary kitten. "Um... I found her."
His father's dark eyes were now on him and the fluff in his hands. Nervous at the lack of response, Daniel continued, "Someone just dumped her in this garbage bin. She looked like she'd been in there for hours, maybe days. It was so hot out I couldn't just leave her there! And-and, just look at her! Someone must have taken some care of her before she was dumped! She knows to use a litterbox, and she doesn't mind water so baths should be easy."
As Daniel spoke, his father hung the bag on the hook behind Daniel's door and approached, plucking the kitten from Daniel's hands to examine her. "See? She looks healthy, doesn't she?" Daniel amended immediately, "Well, besides being starved. She's really quiet and playful, so I don't think she'd be a problem. I know a kitten can be a lot of work and money, but you can take my allowance for anything she needs, I won't mind! And I'll take care of her, you won't have to do anything! So... can I keep her?"
His skin felt sunburned despite the a/c being on seventy-two, and he had to run his hands along his shorts to wipe away the sweat. His heart was beating loud enough to make him feel deaf and his throat was suddenly dry. His father, holding her expertly by the neck, continued to examine the kitten clinically, nothing giving away what he thought.
Finally, his father turned his eyes to meet Daniel's. "Get an old towel. We'll get an opinion from the vet before I give my answer."
Daniel nodded his head like a puppet before he ran into the hall to get a towel from the linen closet. He still felt so nervous he thought he could faint, but he couldn't stop the hope that added into the emotional juggle. He didn't say no.
* * *
The vet, Daniel decided, was to be avoided unless necessary. The waiting room was just an open space with chairs, dogs barking at each other and cats in crates meowing and hissing. Birds in their cages squawking and flying around added feathers to the air, while the receptionist talked on the phone while she ate a brownie. The crumbs that fell to the desk were swiped away, and the pug on the end attached to the extendable leash, happily wobbled over to eat the chocolate bits as the neglectful owner nodded his head in tune with his iPod.
A nurse in a Snoopy scrub called his name, so he followed his father to an examination room with a sterile, steel table in the middle. "I'm Sandra. Please put the kitten here; what's her name?"
Daniel obeyed, making sure to put the towel down first so she wouldn't get cold. "Battle." The kitten's fur was puffed and she trembled as she looked around. Immediately, Daniel rested his hand on her back to try and comfort her.
The nurse rambled on a bit for statistics, made a pitying sound at the story of her discovery, but seemed to sense the two's need for each other and had Daniel participate in her vitals. He got Battle to stay on the scale after two aborted escape attempts and held her front paws as the thermometer was inserted. Her growls were ignored, but Daniel completely agreed with his kitten. With all the new medical discoveries and technologies, they still stuck sticks up a cat's ass for a temperature?
When the nurse left with promises of the doctor coming soon, Daniel took the opportunity to wrap Battle back up and hold her as he sat down. His father, a silent specter during the whole time, only remarked, "You'll just have to put it back when the vet comes in."
"She was cold," Daniel retorted, head down to hide his annoyed expression. "She's still just a kitten."
"It's a cat," His father grunted as he tried to get comfortable in the cheap plastic chair. "Keep it up and it'll get spoiled."
Daniel didn't reply and the silence filled the room until the vet came in. He was an older man, graying at the temple, but Daniel liked the kindness in the man's face when he spotted the kitten in Daniel's arms and smiled. "I'm Dr. Kahn, and this must be Battle."
The doctor stopped Daniel, who had already stood up to put her back on the table. "No, no, that won't be necessary right now. I'll look at her in a minute, just let me get a better idea of her file first. It's been a busy afternoon."
Sitting back down, Daniel cuddled Battle closer, and felt her cold, wet nose nuzzle into his neck. He hated being tickled, but let it go as she seemed to calm when sniffing his scent. The vet was a fast reader, but took his time with each page in the new file before snapping it closed and rolling over on his stool. "Alright, let me have a look." He tugged the blanket away, noting Daniel's hand, "I guess her feistiness earned her the name Battle?"
Daniel smiled at the joke, and took a glance at the hand. It looked like an advertisement for Band-Aid brand. "We didn't have gauze in the house."
In Daniel's arms, the doctor took a light to look in her ear, lifted her lips to examine her teeth, and after hearing the story, that by now Daniel was getting tired of repeating, he asked Daniel to lay her down for him. So, back down went the towel and then the kitten. The smile turned into a frown on the doctor's face, "Yes, she is very underweight. Have you given her any food?"
Cheeks heating up, Daniel glanced at his father and muttered, "Some milk and liver patée. She drank a lot of water earlier, though."
"Hmm, I might put her on a drip just in case. Dehydration is not something to be taken lightly." Catching Daniel's gaze, the doctor's expression softened. "If an animal gets dehydrated, use clear baby pedialyte." He laughed at Daniel's confusion before he had chance to voice it. "Well, you saved one stray. I find most people don't stop once they start. I might as well give you as much information as I can."
As long as Daniel stayed in her line of sight, Battle seemed to stay calm at the doctor's gentle prodding and touches. "You might be right. She seems to be around three months old, and she could be older if she's the runt. Really can't tell until she's gone into her first heat, since that usually happens at six months. Most kittens abandoned immediately are hard to save and can't survive for very long. Her claws... hmm, yes, I think she was probably abandoned after having lived with an owner."
"How can anyone abandon a cat they've taken care of since they were born?" Daniel asked, bothered more than he thought he should.
Dr. Kahn sighed but seemed resigned, not annoyed. "Sometimes people can't take care of a pet for long. Most leave them at a shelter or the pound, but some just dump them off somewhere and leave. Not everyone develops a deep connection to their pet. Some don't even see them as living beings. It's cruel, but it's a reality." The doctor shook his head, "I've even seen a woman drop a pair of pure-bred Rexs at my office, ordering me to put them down. One of my orderlies were able to learn that she was divorcing her cheating husband, and decided to hurt him by killing his cats. Thankfully, since they were pure-bred, I was able to contact the husband and he picked them up. The association likes to keep track of the bloodlines, you see."
Mouth dry, Daniel bit the inside of his cheek and tried to swallow back the bile threatening to rise. "That's sick."
When the vet put his stethoscope on, Daniel quieted down so the doctor could listen to Battle's heart. She looked up at him halfway cranky and halfway pouting. He smiled at her and leaned down to eskimo kiss her. Her furry brow against his was warm and soft, and he let it hover there, just enjoying the connection. She stayed still, purring just low enough to be called a whisper, making his smile widen.
"Hmm." Dr Kahn pulled back, and Daniel snapped his head up. That didn't sound like a good 'hmm'. "She has a heart murmur."
"A what? Is it serious?" Daniel asked, and told his heart to slow down because he wanted to hear this.
Dr. Kahn wrote his discovery in the file as he replied, "Well, it means her heart makes an unusual sound. You know how a heart normally sounds?" Daniel nodded. "It's the same for cats as it is for humans, just faster. Heart murmurs, however, are rather common. Even in perfectly healthy children, most will have a heart murmur heard by a doctor once in their life. It's not uncommon for kittens, either. Most outgrow it by the time they're half a year old."
The doctor put a hand on Battle and started to pet her, "While most are innocent, though, they can become a problem. Sometimes a heart murmur indicates there's a defect in the heart, such as blood leaking out of the valves, and dehydration or starvation can make it much worse. We really can't tell how serious it is unless we do an ultrasound on the heart."
Daniel felt the blood in his body chill and pool in his feet. "Does it hurt her?"
"No!" Dr. Kahn rushed. "No, an ultrasound is just using a handheld device and pressing it against Battle's chest to get back a live picture of her heart as it works. Even if she were to need surgery, we wouldn't let her be hurt, son, I promise."
Lowering his head, Daniel started to run his fingers under Battle's chin, intensifying her purring. "Um," his voice squeaked, and he had to clear his throat and try again. "How much does it cost?"
Even with his head lowered, he saw Dr. Kahn look at his father still sitting in the chair, like a bored audience. "A little over a hundred dollars. I can have someone run up an estimate if you'd like. But, know that I've seen many cats, almost all with some form of heart murmurs, and even the ones with very loud murmurs have lived long, healthy lives with it. It all depends on keeping up to date on vaccines, visits, along with a good diet and lifestyle."
Taking a breath, Daniel tried to calm himself down, focusing on Battle and the rhythmic motion of petting her. Her purring helped, and after a few breaths he no longer felt like he was about to faint. Opening his eyes, he jumped to see his father now standing beside him, looking at him with a blank face. He held his father's gaze, silently begging to know how bad her murmur was. A few hundred dollars was more than anything Daniel had ever asked for, but even he could see why it was needed. He'd swear off all his allowance, he'd even find a way to pay him back, if he'd just do the ultrasound.
* * *
When his bedroom door opened, Daniel refused to look over. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw his father, probably throw something at the man, or curse him out. God help him if the man said one snid thing about Daniel crying in his pillow. It wasn't a girl thing and he was fucking allowed to cry whenever the fuck he wanted to!
His bed dipped and a hand rubbed along his back, larger than Sarah's but smaller than his father's. "I came home early."
"Why?" Daniel rubbed his face into his pillow before turning over to look up at his brother.
Brie stared down at him, and moved his hand up to smooth down Daniel's hair. "Sarah called me. She said you found a kitten but we couldn't keep it. Maybe she's a little naive or doesn't understand things, but I knew what it meant. You needed me."
The tears were stinging across his eyes again, and with no hesitation he sat up and grabbed his brother. Brie wrapped his arms around Daniel and pulled him into his lap, rocking as Daniel sobbed against his shoulder. "He fucking put her down! He made me watch and wouldn't let them keep her for fostering or anything and he killed her! He wouldn't even let me have her ashes, wouldn't even let them cremate her!" He was hiccupping between words and yelling in Brie's ear the more upset he got, but he continued as his brother continued to listen. "Some asshole dropped her off in that bin to let her die, and I found her and thought I could give her a home, a life, and they're going to dump her dead body right back in that goddamn bin!"
He didn't know how long it took him to cry, to rant, to hate his father and Dr. Kahn and the law and even himself, but he knew all it left him with was a snotty face, a pounding headache and a very important piece of himself still hurting with the loss of Battle. Less than a day was how long he had her, and he felt like he lost his mother all over again. Pulling away from his brothers shoulder, he took a few shaky breaths before leaning his brow against his brother's stubbled cheek. At least God gave him something; his brother, who had the best hugs in the whole world. It didn't help the pain, and it didn't bring Battle back, but they always made him feel so much better.
Brie's eyes looked moist too, but his voice was steady as he whispered into Daniel's hair, "I doubt you remember her, but the family dog dad talked about once in a while? Her name was Alice. She was really Mom's dog, y'know how Mom loved the book Through the Looking-Glass." Actually, Daniel hadn't known that about Mom, and at that moment he wondered how lonely Brie must be, being one of two people in the family who remembered their mother at all. "After Mom died, well, Dad became Dad, I guess you could say. He shut us out and poured all his attention and love to Sarah, but she was a baby, so... yeah." And Daniel did understand. He couldn't fault her that, especially not then.
"One day, Alice slipped the leash, and went chasing after a car. She tripped on her leash and got hit by another car. She was lucky, was what the vet said. A broken leg that would heal properly once they took care of it. Dad put her down. Said we couldn't afford it, and he couldn't babysit his children and a crippled dog at the same time, especially since we couldn't hold on to her. His words, mind. It hurt, like our last piece of Mom was being ripped from our hands when it didn't have to be. You were really upset, trying to call for Alice and she'd never come. I would try to tell you, and I'm sorry, but eventually I got angry at you for not understanding. I'd belt you over the head if you asked, or I'd yell at you. And when you'd get really upset, you'd sneak out to her doghouse and lay inside. That ate me up everytime I saw it, and I eventually realized I was becoming like Dad." Brie sighed and tightened his hold on Daniel. "Two against the world; we were all we had at that time. Dad had enough, though, and took an ax to the doghouse. Eventually, you forgot about Alice, or at least how much she meant to you, and I had hoped you never felt that pain again."
A silence began that stretched around the two in a tableau before Daniel shifted and leaned back a little, "What about you?"
That cocky half-grin that always grated on his nerves no longer looked so confident as his brother mock-strangled him. "Idiot. I'm far more wise than you are. I learned that Mom will never leave. I still had my memories of her, and I see her everytime I look at you and Sarah. That eased the pain a lot, and unless I lose you two, I think I'm going to be okay." Letting Daniel slide out of his lap, he gave a one-armed hug before standing. "You didn't have long with the cat, but you have memories of her. Keep remembering the good ones, and it'll start hurting less. Dad took her from you, but don't let him take your memories of her." Brie pulled the door so it was mostly closed as he left Daniel alone, and the smell of pizza wafting upstairs made him both nauseous and hungry.
He wiped his face, considering getting a cool wet washcloth to help his head. When he put his foot on the carpet, though, he felt something pinch it. Looking down, he reached for it in the dimness of his room and when he finally picked it up, he was staring back at the gnawed, spiked head of the ugly troll pencil Sarah had given him. His chest constricted as he bit back the sadness, remembering how adorable Battle had looked, contently playing with the doll. Walking to his desk, he turned on the table light and pulled out his swiss army knife. Carefully, not needing another cut on his hands, he carved into the pencil 'BATTLE' and wrote the date underneath it in awkward, blocky letters. It wasn't the most beautiful monument, but he didn't want to forget her as time passed, like he did with Alice. He then knelt on the floor and pulled out the old army tackle box he got long ago at a garage sale, and opened it up. His important papers were in there, along with copies of his grades and social security number. A few pictures of Mom was there, mostly on family outings, but he managed to find one where she was heavily pregnant, aglow even as she napped in her rocking chair. He put the pencil inside, snapped it shut and put it back under the bed.
He didn't care that he was feeling sick. Brie was right; he couldn't let Dad win this, too. Crossing the room, he opened his door and made his way to the kitchen, where he was greeted enthusiastically by Sarah. Brie smiled at him as he handed him a plate with some pizza slices on it, while his father just stared from where he was eating. Daniel met his gaze, tilting his chin up before ignoring him in favor of his sister. Of course, she wanted to know about the kitten, and after three questions, she realized how red his eyes were, and instead asked him at least four times if he would be alright. He smiled at her, taking in her blooming form. She may have their father's eyes, but the soft curve of her face was their mother, as was the cooling embers red hair. Looking at Brie as he sat down with his own place across from them, his brother took a huge bite out of his food and began chewing with his mouth opening between each chew, distracting Sarah as she squealed and smacked Brie's arm for having no manners. The knee that nudged his was enough acknowledgement, though.
Let his father see his face, he had the right to cry. He had feelings, and he wouldn't throw them away like his father had. "I'll be okay, Princess," he calmed his sister, and start to eat before she could ask anything else.
|*|
I hope it was an enjoyable read, and maybe a little teary-eyed? That's okay, it made me cry writing it and then reading it over. I'm writing, at least, maybe I should leave more 'lists' laying around to guilt-trip my grandmother into letting me have more writing time? ... nah, leaving her and my mom alone too much is like checking the gastank with a match--eventually it'll blow up in your face. *le sigh* I guess I'll satisfy myself with a drink then. Here vodka, vodka, vodka!