Dammit. Wills was supposed to be here to do this with me. I picked up the kitten and spent the rest of the day cradling her and playing with her.
Two days later, I drove to the vet’s to pick her up. I set her Sherpa bag on the counter and pulled out a credit card. “How is she?”
The receptionist smiled at me. “She’s fine, Mr. Bascopolis. The same as she was all the times you called.” She took the card, swiped it through the machine, and waited for the transaction to be approved.
“Well, it was the first time she was away from home. Was she a good girl? Did she behave herself?”
“She was good as gold. And she missed you very much.”
“She did?”
“Yes.” She pressed a button under the desk, and a young woman dressed in green scrubs came from the back. “Mr. Bascopolis is here for the American Bobtail.”
“Ah. Tiramisu is a real sweetheart, Mr. Bascopolis.”
I liked hearing that.