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“Hungry?”

“Meow.”

The cat screams and runs between his legs and Alex almost trips as he fills a plate for him.

“Sorry, fella. No hamburger. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The cat quiets when he gets his meat. Alex spends some time in the bathroom with the water running, accomplishing nothing, just staring, poking and pulling at his face. I should shave. He keeps forgetting.

At 8:00 she still hasn’t shown up and Alex is awake enough to be irritated. He foregoes his shower, but manages to finish his teeth, shave and look pre-sentable. He dresses for school and work, gathers his things. The cat sprawls on his back to snooze, grinning. He looks like he belongs in that spot. The air conditioner’s on and a slight turd smell still wafts about. I have a test tomorrow. I haven’t studied. The doorbell rings about the time he needs to leave. It’s the catwoman. She’s ridiculously happy to see the cat. She talks to him like he’s a baby. She is so obnoxious. He hates her for taking the cat and he hates her for not taking him sooner.

“I have the cat carrier outside,” she says. “Can I bring it in?”

“Of course.” Bring the fucking thing in and let’s get this over with. It hardly fits through the door. No way is this a cat carrier, more like a Saint Bernard carrier. It’s the kind you see at the airport, a reinforced plastic top and bottom riveted to-gether and a large swinging door that has two rods to lock it in place, both set with springs. To open the door the latch has to be depressed from both the top and the bottom simultaneously, an act requiring thumbs.

“Do you carry dogs in this?”

“Dogs? Of course not. This is for cats. I don’t mess with dogs.” Now he understands. The look on her face makes it clear. She is exclusively a cat advocate.

“So you never pick up stray dogs?”

“God, no. I would never do that. Dogs are awful.” I should tell her that they keep the stray cat population down. No, not a good idea.