A Cat Called Cupid: A Romantic Comedy Novella by Morris Mazy

Author:Morris, Mazy [Morris, Mazy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2014-04-10T22:00:00+00:00

Finally, after several sleepless nights—mine and My Lady’s—the missing creatures, human and feline, resurfaced.

“Where have you been?” Ann demanded, when we met Craig outside his apartment. He was carrying a suitcase in one hand and Bella’s carrier in the other.

It was the wrong tone to take, but I understood her point of view. She’d been worried. If it had been up to me, about day three I’d have picked up the phone and called Craig, but it hadn’t been up to me. Don’t ask me why My Lady didn’t think of it herself. Perhaps she didn’t want to appear needy. Although I don’t know why she’d worry about a little thing like that, because she certainly didn’t think twice about appearing rude.

Craig took it well. He just laughed and said, “Why? Did you miss me?”

My Lady whacked him with her shopping bag.

“Oww! What have you got in there? Frozen rocks?”

“No. Ice cream.”

“What kind?”

“Butterscotch.”

“Can I have some?”

“No!”

Three minutes later, though, we were inside Craig’s apartment. The butterscotch ice cream sat untouched on the kitchen counter while My Lady and Craig made mutual explorations of each other’s oral cavities. I know that’s not the most romantic way of putting it, but you’ll have to forgive me. I’m a cat. We felines are not enamored with foreplay in the same way you humans seem to be.

This went on for a while, and Bella and I amused ourselves with a piece of crumpled up paper which had missed the wastebasket in the kitchen.

“Shall we go to the bedroom?” I heard Ann say.

“Uh—”

One might have anticipated that Craig would enthusiastically welcome such a suggestion. At least one would if one had not already seen the state of Craig’s bedroom. The rest of his apartment was not going to win any awards for neatness, but navigating his bedroom floor required acrobatic skills and nerves of steel.

“What’s wrong?” Ann asked.

“Nothing.”

“Well, shall we?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Craig went into the bathroom and shut the door. I heard water running. I think this was his attempt to cover up the fact that he didn’t actually have any business to take care of in there.

Bella and I watched as Ann tiptoed to the bedroom and gingerly pushed the door open. It opened less than a foot before it hit a pile of dirty laundry—or maybe it was clean. I’d made a thorough inventory of the room on previous occasions, and even I—with the aid of my superior feline olfactory senses—couldn’t tell whether or not it had been washed.

“#### ####!” Ann exclaimed and immediately clamped her hands over her mouth. That’s not a phrase she uses often. I think Cat Hater may have rubbed off on her a little. Ann carefully shut the door and was lounging on the couch with an innocent expression on her face when Craig came out of the bathroom.

“Sorry about that,” Craig said.

“The ice cream’s melting.” Ann acted like she’d just now noticed even though she’d been staring right at it for the last three minutes.

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