"Get dressed, Nickster. We need to do a little shopping."
Half an hour later, they were driving down the road from their house, heading toward the outskirts of town. "Where are we going, Dad?" asked Nicky, for the third time.
"You'll see," answered Ian. "Just keep your eyes peeled for yellow cars. I'll give you a quarter for each one you see."
Nickly settled back in his seat, his braced leg planted firmly against the floorboard. He liked this driving game best of all.
They climbed a short hill, and Ian slowed as they approached a gravel driveway with a sign hanging over the entrance. As he turned up the driveway, they approached a group of shabby buildings with a ragged Christmas wreath adorning the door of what appeared to be the main ones. Ian almost had second thoughts, but his lips narrowed with resolve. As he parked the wagon, an uproar of barking rendered the air, from a group of large dogs behind a chainlength fence.
"What're we doing here, Dad? Why are those dogs here?" Nicky scrunched down in his seat and peered out the window fearfully."
"It's okay, Nickster. They can't get out, and they can't hurt you."
Inside, Ian rang the bell on the desk, and they both looked around as they waited. There were colorful posters on the walls, a few Christmas decorations, a Menorah Candle, and flyers with photos of cats and dogs displayed on every vertical surface. More subdued barking came from a corridor to their right, and Nicky scrunched closer to Ian. A few minutes later, a large woman wearing a green smock, a graying ponytail, and a large smile, came to the desk. When Ian described what they were looking for, she pointed to the corridor at the left. "Go down there, and turn right." There is a room with cages and a couple of open rooms with more cats. Be sure to clean your hands with the gel before and after handling each cat, or before entering the community rooms."
They followed her directions, and soon saw a small room with several cats inside, in various positions of repose. They lay on padded shelves against the walls, in the "limbs" of cat trees, and a few huddled inside fabric "igloos" on the floor, or dozed curled up in soft fabric beds. The walls were covered with cats too; cleverly painted cats peeked out from behind trompe 'loeil bushes, and others dozed on painted shelves. Nicky's eyes widened when he saw them. His Dad had always considered cats "too independent," and Nicky had despaired of ever being allowed to have one. They rubbed the antiseptic gel into their hands, and Ian slipped the latch to the room.
Once inside, Nicky lowered himself to his "good" knee, and with some difficulty, turned and flopped so that he was sitting on the floor with both legs spread wide. A little orange and white cat came from nowhere and jumped on his leg. He scritched it behind the ears, and then picked it up and rubbed his face against its fuzzy whiskers, giggling when they tickled his nose. The cat, really just an adolescent, raised one paw and patted Nicky gently on the cheek. He looked down at it and only then saw that the kitten was deformed. He had only one hind leg. Before Nicky could say anything, the kitten lunged out of his arms and ran across the floor, his three legs flying, then tackled a gray tabby about the same size. They rolled around for a few minutes in mock-fighting, then zipped across the floor, the three-legged kitten in the lead, and the tabby in hot pursuit.
Ian silently watched Nicky watching the kittens, then finally cleared his throat. "That gray kitten looks pretty playful, doesn't he? What would you name him if you took him?"
Nicky watched the kittens cavort for a few more minutes, then as they dashed across his knees, he grabbed the orange and white boy, and said, "I want this one, Dad. I'll call him Sparky."
They both watched the kittens play for a few minutes, then Ian pulled Sparky's flyer off the wall. "It says here that the orange one has to be adopted along with his brother. Looks like you're going to have two kittens." Ians innate distrust of cats melted when he saw the beatific smile light up his son's eyes, as Nicky said, "Then I'll name the other one Bubba."
Next > A Christmas visitor
