Things We Swear By

Prompt from Sue: She had a sneaking suspicion foul play was afoot. The pet rescue was supposed to call back as soon as they approved her application. She’d watched EVERY episode of Jackson Galaxy on Animal Planet and catified every inch of the house. Applying to adopt a cat should not be more difficult than landing a job. POV: 3rd person omniscient

Language warning: Swearing. Quite a lot, really.

One.

“This is fucking bullshit!” Tess said, quite loudly, into her phone and then whistled a little bit of Für Elsie along with the hold music. “God damned fucking incredible bullshit!” [dah dah dah dah dah dada dum] . “I should rip you a fucking new one, you fucking dipshit assholes!” [dah dah dah da, dada da, dada da]

And on she went, alternatively spewing obscenities and nonchalantly whistling snatches of Beethoven’s Worst. This was not only a fairly normal scenario for Tess, but also for Frankie and Jeff, the waitress and short order cook, respectively, at the Honey, Honey Cafe, where Tess ate breakfast every morning. Every week or so someone tried to straighten Tess out: point out to her that this was a public place, that she was talking very loudly, that there were children present, as if Tess were not aware of these facts. Tess was well aware of these facts. Tess didn’t fucking care. Tess would, at these times, alert this fellow diner to a number of other equally interesting “facts,” in Tess’ opinion, about themselves. She would use the word “Fuck” quite a lot while doing so.

Said diner usually found another cafe at which to eat that morning, and every morning thereafter. Frankie would smirk. Jeff flipped the pancakes a bit higher in salute. The Honey, Honey Cafe was not a place for “nice” folks, and that suited the regulars just fine.

Frankie put the plate of banana honey nut pancakes in front of Tess. She arranged the little metal jug of warmed maple syrup (real maple syrup, not the imitation crap) with the handle pointing conveniently towards Tess. Frankie paid attention to the little details. Tess always appreciated that.

“Goddamned fucking fuckers, go fuck yourselves,” Tess said, slightly more loudly but still not officially yelling, as she punched the “end call” button and put her phone on the table. She whistled one more bar of Für Elsie, regardless. Damn but that tune stuck in the brain!

“Pet Rescue?” Frankie asked.

Tess nodded, her mouth stuffed full of pancake and warm syrup.

“Fuckers,” Frankie said for her.

It had been a month since Tess had applied to adopt a cat. She’d filled in the form. She’d answered all their follow up questions. She’d waited a week before her first call, and another week before her second. Now she was calling every morning. She’d tried to be civil, a state that did not come naturally. She had given up about a week ago. Not on adopting a cat, but on being civil. Now she unleashed increasingly terse questions and demands for information down the phone each morning.

Fuck that fuckhead Melanie. Fuck her! Shitty fucking Gatekeeper Supreme, with her saccharine smile and oh-so-polite and utterly fucking fake voice. “We’re still reviewing your application,” Melanie would tell her, as if this were something inconsequential like an application to be President of the United States. This was not such a fucking trivial matter. She wanted a cat. She was going to be the best damned cat mother ever. They had cats. They had poor, abandoned, scared, lonely cats that needed a home, and she was just trying to give one fucking cat the best damned fucking home that it could ever get. Why had this taken a month?

Fuck them! Melanie had told her she would get a call when they had processed her application. To please stop calling, please, and do not come to the store. Please. Melanie had seemed a little ruffled on this point.

So why didn’t they just call her and say “No”? That was what was making Tess crazy. If they didn’t want her to adopt one of their cats, why didn’t they just fucking say “No”?

Did they think she couldn’t handle ”No”? Of course she could handle “No”! She was a goddamned fucking hero at being told “No”! Welcome to My Life of “No,’” you fuckers, she thought. Take the audio tour and have a nice day.

Just say “No” and let me move on to Plan B, she thought. Plan B involved breaking into Pet Rescue at night and just taking whatever darned cat she wanted. Plan C was a loosely formed idea that involved a gorilla, which she would need to borrow from the zoo, first. Plan D had nukes. It would be a good idea if things didn’t get to Plan D, for everyone’s sake.

Tess pushed her plate aside and picked up her phone. She hadn’t run her finger through the leftover butter and syrup and licked it today. Frankie noted this with a raised eyebrow in Jeff’s direction. Jeff pulled the corners of his mouth down, briefly, as if to express “Well, how about that?” Tess pulled up the website for Pet Rescue and saw they had new profiles for three dogs, a gerbil (would anyone want a second hand gerbil, really?)…

And one cat! His profile had no picture, yet, but they had named him “Buster”. “Male, neutered, approx 2yo. Gray and white tabby, stripes more prominent on legs, tail, face. Best in single pet home”. Ah, could Tess dare to hope? She knew that “Best in single pet home” meant he wasn’t the friendliest cat on the planet. That would rule out the people who already had a pet, people with children, or grandchildren, or who want children or grandchildren, or…Tess was calculating her odds, and they seemed to be rising. Fuck Gatekeeper Melanie. She was going down there, now, to ask if she could at least see Buster.

And if Melanie said “No”? Well, then she’d be back tomorrow.
With a gorilla.

Two.

It was only when the phone clicked to signal that the call had been disconnected and she exhaled that Melanie realized she’d been holding her breath. She knew, just knew, it was Tess Durnbarn. Oh god what she wouldn’t give to be rid of her! Could they just get the security checks back, today, please! Melanie hadn’t signed up for this, she thought, yet again. Watching sweet little children’s faces when they picked up their new kitten was what she had signed up for. Not dealing with entitled ladies, and she used that term loosely, who wanted a cat, and now, with no “by your leave,” or “thank you”. It’s not like Tess was the first frustrated not-yet-a-cat-lady Melanie had encountered, but she was certainly the most foul-mouthed. It still shocked her that Tess seemed to think it was a perfectly acceptable way to interact. Melanie avoided the phone every morning. Pick it up wordlessly, punch hold, go to the back of the store until she hangs up.

Where on earth was Hal? He should be up front answering the phone while she was hiding in the back…she meant while she was working in the back. Hal had taken the opportunity, as he took every opportunity, to go get a coffee. Melanie was in her usual state of being mildly miffed at Hal, and hoped he’d at least put the new arrivals up on the website before he left. She should check. Hal was as likely to swap the names or ages of the dogs with the cats. No, she’d go and check they were all comfortable, first, given she was hiding…er, working, in the back of the shop, anyway.

That past weekend, two weeks after Labor Day, Melanie had gone to the beach because it was finally cool enough for her to enjoy it. She had been about to book her usual cottage, when she decided to scan the other offerings. There was one place she’d never really considered before. “Dream Cottage” was its flowery name. She looked at the little map. While it was closer to the water, which was not a consideration for her, it was further away from the shops and restaurants, which was. But at least going home would be downhill after dinner. She looked at the comments, and they sealed the deal. No, they hadn’t waxed lyrical about the cottage, but about the cat.

“Added bonus is Buster, the neighborhood welcoming party!”

“We enjoyed being greeted by Buster, who seems to be in charge around here, lol!”

“House comes with a friendly cat (he must live next door or something). Tag says his name is Buster”

“If you see the big brown cat, his name is Buster. He’s very friendly!”

Melanie had booked Dream Cottage, and packed a pouch of cat treats. She arrived after dark on Friday evening, and didn’t think much of it. But when there was no sign of Buster by noon on Saturday, she double checked the reviews. Yes, this was the right place. Over butternut ravioli on Saturday night she started to worry. What had happened to Buster? She walked home slowly, looking carefully, knowing she had little chance of seeing a brown cat in the dark, but she tried, anyway. When she reached her own door, she felt a wave of happiness. There was a cat sitting on her stoop! But wait, this was a black and white cat. Actually, not more than a kitten. It wouldn’t let her get close enough to read its tag, but she knew there was no way this was Buster. She also knew there was no way Buster would let a kitten into his territory. Buster was definitely gone.

She had tried to watch some television, but found her mind wandering. “Oh for goodness’ sake!” she exclaimed, slamming the remote on the couch, “I’m mourning for a cat I’ve never met!”

She took a deep breath, wadded up the foil from the chocolate, hurled that ineffectually at the wall, and hollered “FUCK. YOU!” at all the reviewers.

“Hello, Buster,” Melanie had therefore said, ever so softly, to the lost cat who arrived at Pet Rescue yesterday afternoon, “We’re going to find you a very special home.”

Three.

Tess pushed open the door to Pet Rescue, hoping that young guy would be there.

Melanie heard the little bell on the door tinkle, and hoped it was Hal.

They were both disappointed. “Oh,” they both said, in surprise, followed by realizing that the other was equally surprised.
Followed by a slight embarrassment that their disappointment may have shown.
Followed by a slight annoyance that the other had looked disappointed.

Tess broke the ice. “Here I fucking am, again,” and she tried a self-deprecating smile. It didn’t work.

“Here you, erm, are,” replied Melanie, only just failing to swear.

“So,” Tess was really trying hard to smile, but she was pretty sure she was just baring her teeth, “I saw on the website that you have a new cat.” Melanie said nothing. “Buster,” Tess said, in case Melanie had other new cats.

“Yes,” said Melanie, showing how easy it was for her to pull off a completely inauthentic smile, much to Tess’ annoyance, “but as I’ve explained (oh so many times, she thought) Ms. Durnbarn, we simply cannot approve your application until we get the results of our security checks. These checks (yes, she had also explained this numerous times) take time.”

“I just wanted to see him,” Tess said, simply.

“We discourage that, Ms. Durnbarn,” said Melanie with an equally inauthentic little sympathetic frown. “It would be difficult if you and the cat bonded and then we couldn’t proceed with your application.”

Tess took a very deep breath.

Melanie held hers.

Tess let the air out through her lips, wordlessly.

Melanie, surprised that there wasn’t a loud stream of invective issuing from Tess, took a few moments to recognize the noise.

Tess was whistling. It was Für Elsie.

Melanie got the reference, and something inside her felt a glimmer of sympathy mixed with shame. “Look, I really don’t know why your checks haven’t come back.” This was true. “Sometimes inter-species adoptions just take longer.” She involuntarily jumped backwards when she saw the effect of her words on Tess, whose attempted smile was now an unmasked snarl.

“Inter-species adoptions?” Tess spat, but it wasn’t a question.

“Well,” Melanie was really scared now, and glanced at the door, willing Hal to return. “Yes, I mean, because you’re a…a…”

“Because I’m a goddamned fucking asshole honey badger, you mean?” This was also not a question.

“Ms. Durnbarn,” Melanie tried, because she had to regain some control, “I swear we run the same checks on all potential adoptees, human and badger,” she concluded, straightening her back and lifting her chin a little. She would not have her character impugned by the implication that she had impugned this badger’s character.

“Hell yes you just have to do your goddamned fucking checks don’t you,” Tess was now spitting all over the counter, “I will deal with that complete fuckwad bullshit. But you said ‘inter-species adoption’ you …you…” Tess spluttered to a halt. While it came naturally to her to complain and swear and assume anger was the only way to meet the world, she did usually draw the line at insulting people to their face. Most didn’t understand that. She saw a difference between terrorizing someone and shaming them. Honey badgers have a moral code, after all. Honey badger do fucking care, Randall*.

Melanie, who had closed her eyes in the face of the assault, opened one. She looked completely confused. What was this woman’s problem? She was, after all, a honey badger. That was all Melanie had said.

Tess pushed herself back from the counter. All the papers on it were so wet with spit they were becoming papier-mâché. “So let me ask you a question, Melanie.”

Melanie knew it would be another non-question.

“Are cats humans, ”
Melanie didn’t move.
“Or are humans cats?”
Melanie didn’t answer.
“Every adoption you do is an inter-species adoption.”
Tess only just stopped her self from adding “you complete asshole”.
Melanie’s knees buckled when Hal walked in the door.

“Hal,” she squeaked, and cleared her throat twice, “Hal, please go get Buster. Ms. Durnbarn would like to meet him.”

Hal raised his frappuccino in acknowledgement and continued to the back of the store.

Tess and Melanie looked at each other, until they were both startled by a loud, drawn out, guttural howl. Buster was apparently not happy to have been disturbed.

Tess’ rage had dissipated but the naked disgust that had fueled it was still there. “Tabby my ass,” she growled, “You didn’t notice the fucking eyes?” Again she had to swallow an insult and it stuck in her throat.

Melanie looked behind her. Hal was standing near the back of the store holding Buster. Even he had become aware of the tension, and didn’t want to get any closer. Buster was trying to crawl over his shoulder and get back to his food. Of course she’d noticed the eyes. They were the most beautiful blue. But that wasn’t on the website, right? She clicked a few keys on the computer. No, it wasn’t.

“What, exactly, are these security checks you are waiting for?” asked Tess, in a flat monotone which was, if anything, more scary than her anger.

“Criminal background checks, driving record checks,” Melanie replied, and she stopped herself from telling Tess once more that everyone had to go through them.

“Let me save you the bother,” said Tess, “I’ve had three moving violations this year. Does that disqualify me?”

Melanie said “We take all the information into consideration.”

“Have you had any speeding tickets?” Tess asked.

”Not in twenty-two years,” said Melanie, with a degree of pride. It was a precise number, when “over twenty” or “decades” would have sufficed. Tess not only noted this fact, but had expected it, because people like Melanie always clung to these little points of superiority.

“Well,” said Tess, “maybe you drive better than me. Or maybe there aren’t as many speed traps in your part of Louisville. Or maybe you don’t have to get from your first job to your second job in peak hour traffic every day. Or maybe how I drive has no effect on my cat, who after all will be curled up in a patch of sun at home, not in my car.”

Melanie felt the ground on which she stood rumble, but she tried to find her feet, regardless “It may be imprecise, but it’s a proxy…”

Tess cut her off and finished the sentence for her. “It’s a proxy for finding people like you. People who are nice and polite and have the right sort of life and home, in your very personal opinion, to have a cat. You know,” she said, almost conversationally, “Pablo Escobar had a zoo. All sorts of people love animals. And they care for them just fine.”

Melanie was by this point floundering, so she grabbed the one thing she could reach. “How did you know about the eyes?”

Tess actually laughed. “I told you, my first time here, that I’ve watched every episode of Jackson Galaxy and everything else I could find. I babbled on about cats, trying to impress you, trying to make you believe I was just like you, so you’d let me have a cat.”

Melanie remembered none of this. Everyone tried to impress her when they applied to adopt. Oh shit, was that the point?

“But really,” continued Tess, “they’re not your damned cats, are they? You’re just a clearing house. You don’t own Buster. You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for him. “ She stepped towards Hal, clearly intent on taking the cat from him.

Melanie opened her mouth and took one step towards them, but Tess took the cat and turned to her.

“See this?” Tess indicated the face, then the legs, then the tail, “How there’s more stripes than on the body? And the blue eyes? And if you need any more convincing, the howl he made just now?”

“What?” asked Melanie.

“He’s not a tabby. He’s a lynx-point Siamese. Only Siamese sound like that. And they have blue eyes. But,” and these would be the last words she would ever say to Melanie, “I swear, it doesn’t matter how much I know about cats. You don’t get to fucking decide if I’m allowed to have one.”

Four.

Raggnagma Herritude Thistlewhisperer looked around Tess’ apartment and then up at Tess. “Greetings new staff,” he telepathically communicated, “I will take my meals every three hours, day and night. Water will be provided from a fresh fountain. The dry food bowl must never, and I cannot emphasize this enough, be so empty that I can see any part of the bottom of the bowl. Do not feed me fish. I will vomit it on your bed if you do. I will sleep curled behind your knees, and you will not move all night lest you disturb me. A chair is to be placed where I can catch the afternoon sun. Further instructions will be forthcoming when I have inspected my new realm.” He yawned. “I will answer to this ludicrous ‘Buster’ moniker, but only if you are informing me that dinner is served.”

“And one final thing,” he looked her deeply in the eyes, making sure she got this very clearly “If you displease me in any way, I swear: I. Will. Fuck. You. Up.”

Tess didn’t hear a word, but she understood.

Footnote: * Search “honey badger Randall” and watch the video.