Sunday, October 23, 2016

Gareth Dunham and the Order of the Felines

Gareth Dunham arrives at the Brate house, grabs the mail from the post box, lets himself in with the spare key, and takes off his shoes. He was there to care for the cats, all 5 of them. Sparkles greeted him at the door like an old friend, bumping him and rubbing at his leg as he set his shoes on the mat.

“Hey Sweetie.” Gareth cooed and gave her a good chin scratching.

He takes the small pile of mail to the kitchen where he’s been gathering it on a shelf. Several floral arrangements had arrived over the week from well meaning but misinformed well wishers. Gareth had been texting pictures of them to Megan as they would not survive the length of Adum’s hospital stay. He was awake now though and the visits to the cats didn’t feel as emotional. Gareth was so relieved he stepped over a bunch of raffia bow on the floor and then crunched his foot into broken glass and a small puddle. One of the cats had knocked over one of the flower vases, more likely it was a specific pair of them. Gareth backed his foot off the glass and followed the trail of raffia to two orange tabbies kicking some more around and chasing it all over the dining room; Fred and George of course. Up on the dining room table staring down on the pair with disdain was clever old Minerva, a grey tabby, just like in the film.

Gareth looked at all three in exasperation but spoke directly to Minerva “Professor, why didn’t you put them in detention?” He laughs at himself as Minerva just yawns and curls up in a cat ball in an ebbing sunbeam from the window.

“Oh I see…it’s like that is it?”

He trudges to the broom and dustpan for the glass and floral debris and then soaks up the water with a dishtowel. He fills the food and water and puts the dishtowel on top of the washing machine. He scoops the litter box and then does one last walk around. There’s one cat he has not encountered yet, Voldemort. This one is very aptly named and Gareth is quite fine with the idea of not running into him. He’s a large dark grey fluffy mass of malice. Gareth tiptoes up the stairs and peers carefully into each room as he passes the doorways. It’s quiet, too quiet. Sometimes Voldemort likes to sleep in the bathtub so he wanders into the bathroom and peers behind the shower curtain. Nope. There’s a scratching sound coming from the master bedroom followed by tiny little mews. Gareth frowns wondering if Voldemort is somehow injured.

He heads back to that bedroom that he had just sort of glanced in and pinpoints the noise to the dresser, the bottom drawer, which is ajar. Gareth mutters “Ugh, you’ll get the clothes all hairy you vicious little shit.”

Gareth yanks on the handles and pulls the drawer open causing a loud warning hiss but followed again by the mewing. But the mewing is not from Voldemort. Four grey kittens are snuggled up to the big cat, nursing. Gareth winces “Oh they got that wrong….I guess you’re just so fluffy down there and who would dare look twice.” He smiles at the kittens because despite their nasty mother, they are…kittens after all. The whole family is on top of a drawer full of slightly familiar looking bunched up sweaters, specifically every sweater owned by Adum Brate.

1 comment: