6 Chapter 6

David smiled, and the smile echoed through his voice, in his eyes, as he tested a tummy-rub, received a playful swat—no claws—and laughed and tried again, which Colin permitted this time. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you? Brat—so, yeah, long day, and then there you were, all wet and sad and trying to stay dry under my car, and I just…if I can take care of you, that’s somethin’ I can do. Just one thing. Makin’ life better for somebody.”

Brat, Colin mused; and pounced lightly on David’s hand, kicking: a perfect target, as it rested on his stomach. No claws and no real biting, only nibbling; and then he stretched out upside-down and gazed up sweetly and tucked his paws up invitingly.

“Ha,” David told him. “Not falling for that again. Do I need cat toys? Do I need a litterbox? I don’t even know how old you are, do you need—okay, you eat solid food, you ate my sandwich, but that’s not cat food. Should I go buy cat food? Should I take you to a vet or something?”