Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,29
new housemate. I pulled into the alley behind Simmer and parked next to Josh’s car.
“Hi, babe.” He grinned sheepishly at me. “You’re the best.”
“No, you’re the best. I love that you saved her from a Sopranos-style death. Let me see her!” I demanded happily.
Josh reached into his car, lifted out a beige plastic cat carrier, and gently lowered it to the pavement. I bent down, peered through the little wire door of the carrier, and found myself looking into the round blue eyes of a small white cat with a darling little smooshed-in face. Eager to get a better look and also eager not to get scratched, I asked, “Do you know if she’s friendly?”
“Oh, yeah,” Josh said with a smile.
Careful to avoid giving the little cat the chance to escape, I eased open the wire door and tentatively reached in. After giving the cat a few seconds to adjust to the presence of my hand, I stroked her face. When I reached in and gently touched her back, my hand encountered a heartbreaking combination of thick mats and palpable bones. “Oh, Josh! The poor cat!” I said angrily as I removed my hand and closed the carrier door. “Look at her fur! She’s never been groomed. And she’s starving. What kind of monster would do this? That bastard!”
“I know. I know. That’s why I had to take her. But look at her gorgeous blue eyes! She’s so sweet, too, Chloe. I took her out and let her walk around in my car, and she let me hold her. She even started purring a little bit.” Josh’s eyes were glistening. “So, you’ll keep her?”
“Yes, I’m going to keep her! This poor thing has had a rotten life so far, and we’re not going to let anything else happen to her. Ever! I’ll take her to the vet and get her checked out and make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m really sorry, but I have to get back to work. Gavin is going to kill me as it is for taking such a long break. I’ll still see you tonight, though, right?” Josh handed me the cat carrier and kissed me, lingering just a bit. “Thanks, Chloe.” He turned and bounded up the back steps to the restaurant.
“Hey, Josh,” I called, “what’s her name?”
“The jerk didn’t say. But she told me her name was Inga.” He grinned and disappeared into the restaurant.
I lifted the carrier up to eye level and looked into those amazing blue eyes. “Inga, huh? It actually suits you. Come on, Miss Inga, let’s get you out of here.”
I called Gato’s vet as I maneuvered my way through the downtown traffic. Once I’d given the receptionist a capsule version of Inga’s story, she agreed to have the vet see the cat right away. As much as I wanted to take little Inga home immediately, I knew it would be unfair to Gato to expose him to whatever bizarre cat disease the neglected Inga might be carrying. And if she had fleas? Well, neither Gato nor I wanted them.
An hour later, Inga and I arrived at my Brighton condo. Aside from being severely underweight and in need of spaying, Inga seemed to be fine. When the vet had subjected her to shots and had taken a blood sample for tests, she’d peed all over the vet’s assistant and squirmed so much that she’d pulled out one of the needles and spattered herself with blood. The tests were still being run, but for the moment, she was given a clean bill of health, and I’d been told that it was safe to take her home.
When I arrived in my apartment, opened the carrier door, and released Inga, Gato acted downright furious. He took one look at Inga, put up his hackles, leapt to the top of the fridge, and positioned himself in his favorite pissed-off Halloween-black-cat stance. I sat the frightened Inga on a towel in my lap and tried to work on getting the knots out of her fur. After only a few minutes with a metal grooming comb, I gave up. Her body was covered in matted snarls that almost seemed to grow like tumors from her skin. I imagined that she must be terribly uncomfortable; I knew how I’d feel if some mean person were yanking my hair twenty-four hours a day. “You will have to go to a groomer tomorrow, my little friend.” Unready to get up and explore her new home, Inga remained motionless in my lap.