'Nother Sip of Gin - Rhys Ford Page 0,14
me.
He’s left the door open, probably to shove Con out of it when he’s done. Outside, the giant black car Con drives is chugging away, one of its doors left open and its lights splashing up against the outside of the house. I like Kane’s machine better. We go riding in it, and I get my own window to lean out of. It is nice.
“Dude isn’t going to get you fed,” Con points out.
I beg to differ. I get hungry and Miki eats too, sometimes. In a way, I feed him the best I can. It’s not my fault he eats things crows wouldn’t touch.
“So you’re here to what? Cook me dinner?” Miki replies. He does sarcasm well. I can smell its strong odor on his words.
“No, I am here to take you for Mexican food.” Con jerks his head back to the open door. “Come on, jump in and I can tell K I’ve done my brotherly duty. Or would you rather he send our mum the next time?”
Miki eyes him, disgusted at something. Petting my head, he replies slowly, “Only if Dude can come with. And he gets a taco.”
He has said a magic word. I am off the couch and up into the huge car before I can hear Con’s response. It doesn’t matter because Miki is following me and my stomach is twisting up in anticipation.
“You know most dogs know sit and stay,” Con says when he gets up into the elephant he calls a car. “Your dog knows taco.”
“He also knows mac and cheese,” Miki says with a grin, pulling himself up. “But if you want me to eat, you’ve got to feed my dog too. That’s the deal. Even Kane knows that one.”
My dog. I puff up at the description. Miki’s Dog. Dude’s human. Those are lovely names. And Miki knows them both.
I shall have to add Eater of Tacos to my names, but honestly, Dude is all I really need. Because it holds so damned much—and all in a single noise.
Six
THE HOUSE was—as the young woman who’d just finished scratching my belly put it—awesome sauce.
I wasn’t sure what kind of sauce would be awesome sauce, but I imagined it would probably be like the yummy goodness of steak gravy over bacon.
Mostly because there’d just been bacon, and despite Miki’s disgust at my perfectly natural body expulsions, there’d been belly rubs galore.
Also… cats. Because the Pack knew I love cats. They are like small grumpy cousins who really need to be teased out of their unhappiness. Sunbeams are all well and good, but really, the world would be a better place for all of us if they’d just realize sometimes it’s the tail wag and baring teeth in that odd way humans do that gets the treat at the end of the day.
Cats think differently. They’re still harping about how they were once gods. No good reminding them about the whole witch’s familiar thing or how they could steal a baby’s breath myth. It was all about the time when humans got together, lit some candles, and chanted over their fat furry asses.
My human was definitely rubbing off on me.
The house had a definite Pack leader. He was bigger than the others, older, and barked deeper when he spoke. Not that he spoke through most of the high-pitched jumping squees the young belly-rubber did near my Miki, but he certainly provided a good wall for Miki when my human took a few steps back. Donal, the dam called him. More noises, and they probably meant something too, but really, what does it all mean? Names are so fluid, and humans seemed very attached to only a few sounds when they spoke to each other. Even their Pack names were short grunts. Dad. Mom. Who communicated that way?
What chaos it has to be when a human stands in a crowd and shouts Mom or Dad. How many humans turn around because that’s the noise someone makes for them?
Silliness. Silliness everywhere.
“So, ye’re Duke, eh? Ye don’t look much like a Duke to me. But that’s what Brae says yer name is.”
I wanted to tell him, no—that’s not the noise for me, but well—I wasn’t made for talking.
Ah, the pater’s shadow crossed over me as he sat down on the squat soft couch thing next to me. If I were superstitious like a fool cat, I’d have to wait a turn of time, then race around the house to get the shadow’s dirt off of me—preferably as