Refuge from the Rain

CW: Animal abandonment

Wind battered against my fur. Cold bit into my skin, unceasing droplets beating down upon the metal roofs as I walked between houses. Drain pipes clattered and poured miniature waterfalls somewhere, but with the constant pounding of the rain, it was impossible to tell where they were. My mouth had been bone dry all day, despite the rivulets dripping off of my fur. I missed the cat bed at home. My former home. Before my old humans moved out for good, and the new humans decided they didn’t like cats much. 

I wandered out of the side road, ears back as I scanned both directions of a road next to a subdivision. I’d already been pelted with rocks by some kids. I’d ran away with a screech, but they only laughed. Another person had been kinder, giving me an ear scratch and a half-eaten fried egg. That was a good day.

It had been a while since I’d had good days. 

A large, brick home caught my attention. Light flickered in the window, which had a slight overhang the rain dribbled off of. I could hear human voices lilting from the other room, but they had an animatronic sound to it. As I hopped upon the windowsill, I could hear the hum of the television, and beneath it, the soft breathing of a real person. It was faint, probably from the room next to this one. At least I would have some warning if the human were at risk of seeing me. I could rest here until I felt like finding a better hiding spot. 

The windowsill provided a faint cover, but I was still drenched to the bone. The window was barely cracked open, just enough to let a sliver of warm air out. I shuffled on the windowsill, loafing to catch any heat that I possibly could. Batter, eggs, and sugar all wafted on the breeze. Cookies. My stomach grumbled. It turned out my hunting instincts weren’t as great as I thought, because I’ve caught nothing today. 

Rain sprayed against my side, and I closed my eyes, pressing harder into the window in hopes it could give me even the slightest warmth. The brief gusts of warmth from inside were quickly snatched by the wind. The glass was see-through, the curtains parted just enough to see a large room with an island. Metallic food and water bowls glistened right below me, filled to the brim. 

What I wouldn’t give to go inside of this house right now. 

Unless…

Jumping from the window, I sat in front of the door, tucking my paws in and wrapping my tail around me. I can’t do anything about being soaked, but I had to try this. I meowed pathetically.

A moment of silence passed. I tried again. 

Nothing.

Tail flicking, I raked my claws across the doorframe, yowling above the wind. 

Finally, footsteps echoed towards the door, a light flicking on underneath the frame. The door creaked as it swung open, a warm, buttery light spilling out onto me. A tall silhouette tried to block the door, but I scampered past, tail high in the air as a male voice yelled out from behind me. I slipped into the kitchen, claws scrambling against the tile. The steel bowl screeched against the floor as I stuffed my face into it. 

Water. 

Clear, clean, beautiful water.

It didn’t tingle on my tongue. It didn’t reek with oil. It didn’t taste musty or even metallic, despite being in a steel container. There weren’t any colors dancing atop the surface, there weren't any dirt particles floating within it. It was just water. Edible, wonderful water.

My gulps echoed through my ears. Cold splashed against my face. Even the hunger dissipated slightly as I drained half of the bowl. 

A tug on the scruff of my neck, and I was hovering off the ground. “What are you doing?”

I looked at him, globs of water dribbling down my neck and onto the floor. What did it look like I was doing? 

His gaze softened, and he brought me against his shoulder. “You can’t take Nora’s water.”

Heat flooded my body. I snuggled closer. I also wiped my chin on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice that part. 

Wait, who was Nora?

The pitter-patter of feet followed him, a collar jangling as he walked to the other side of the kitchen. A long, fluffy tail wagged behind the little dog as she followed him, head lifted high as she grinned. Floppy ears framed the dog’s face. Each splotch on her back seemed carefully placed, her long fur groomed and smelling faintly like shampoo. She definitely wasn’t a stray.

Round, dark eyes stared up at me, a moist nose sniffing the air. Nora tilted her head, watching me. I flicked my tail, glaring. She merely huffed in response. Laying down with her head on her paws, she returned to watching the rain fall.

I looked at the human. Really? One of those little pampered dogs? 

If he sensed my judgmental stare, he didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll get you some food in a moment, okay? Then we’ll go to the vet tomorrow and see if you’re microchipped…”

I tuned him out, collapsing against his shoulder. I wasn’t microchipped. If my collar hadn’t been forcefully brought off my head, I could claim this as one big mistake. 

“...If you’re not, we can find you a home, okay?”

I almost snorted. This one was as good as any. Minus the dog, of course.

A ding rang from the kitchen, and he set me down. I followed him into the kitchen, the batter and warmth filling my senses as he took the pan of cookies out of the oven. Nora stood beside me, and we followed the pan across to the island, the warm batter practically melting in my mouth. My whiskers tingled with the scent, and I brushed up against his legs, managing a pitiful meow. 

“No, you can’t have cookies.”

My stomach grumbled. I voiced my complaints louder, staring up at him with wide eyes. He glanced between me and Nora. His shoulders slumped. “Look, I have some chicken. You can have that instead, alright?”

Grabbing a measuring cup, he filled it with chicken, setting it before me. Immediately I dove into it, not even caring when the cup tipped over and chicken sprawled across the floor. 

I ate it as if it were the last meal I would ever see. 

He gently eased my body backwards, and I yowled. “You’re going to get sick.”

Hissing, I scratched at his hand, and he let me go. "Have it your way, then.” His voice lost all of its bite as he watched me devour more of the chicken. “I’ll go get a towel.” 

As he left, I felt the muscles in my back slowly relax. My fur was plastered to my sides from the rain, and I could smell the petrichor on my skin. The remaining pangs in my stomach slowly diminished, the chicken pressing against my stomach like a rock. Nonetheless, I ate a little extra, only realizing Nora was there when I had eaten three more pieces. 

Nora nibbled a piece of chicken, and I hissed. If she cared, she didn’t show it. My tail slapped back and forth, my ears going back as I warned her again. Nothing. I tried a light swat, and she looked at me. Then, gently, she nosed a piece of chicken closer to me, grabbing her own piece and walking off.

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

I laid out on the kitchen floor. Water streaked over the tile, and I tucked myself into a loaf, eating the offered piece of chicken. On a dog bed in the corner, Nora chewed a toy bone. If she was bothered by my outburst or by my presence, she didn’t show it. Against my better judgement, I left a piece of chicken or two for her to find later. 

The human came back in with the towel, eyes widened as he scanned the floor. “Have you eaten it all, already?” He bent down, gently wiping water off of me. “I knew you were a bit skinny, but I didn’t realize how starved you were.”

The taste of chicken still lingered in my mouth. I was just happy I didn’t have to eat dog food. 

Wrapping me up inside the towel, he carried me over his shoulder and onto the couch, where he placed me on his lap. The hush of rain was softer now, the scent fading underneath the warm batter in the kitchen. My breathing slowed, warmth enveloping me as I closed my eyes. 

“I’m not a cat person.”

The purring spilled from me like music, rumbling against his arms. He sighed, a hand gently stroking down from my ears to my back. “This is just for one night.” 

Nora whined below us. 

“Fine.” He used his free hand to pat the couch. “Come on, girl.”

She pressed her chin against his knee, tail thumping against the armrest. 

“We’re not going to make a habit of sleeping on the couch.” 

Nora’s tail thumped harder. 

I purred. Maybe I was wrong about her after all. I think we’ll get along just fine.