Chapter Thirty-Eight - Pet House

"Alright," I said as tensions started to ramp up. "Let's show Sharp the living room, and we'll talk this out, shall we?"

The three cats before me considered it, but it was Arsenic, my loud baby, that spoke. "I suppose. Is 'Sharp' your pet?"

I glanced up to Sharp. "Can you understand them?"

"No?" she said. "I mean, he meowed a couple of times, but that's it? I hear you just fine though!"

I turned my gaze back down to Arsenic. "Yes, she is," I said.

I wanted to give Sharp the grand tour, but really, this situation with the cats had to be handled first. The living room was just inside, a space with a plush sofa facing a wall-mounted television. A fireplace was tucked in the far corner, mostly as decoration, thought it was technically usable.

I had once had a decent passion for interior decorating, and the budget to spare. My home looked like the inside of a magazine. A nice grey sofa with a number of plump cushions on top in complementary colours, to the side were a pair of rounded seats and a low wooden table with the TV remote and a small lamp.

The wall to one side was entirely taken up by an inset bookcase, some of the shelves holding knick-knacks while the rest had paperbacks. I had tried to find hardcover copies of all of my favourites over the years, because they looked so much better on display.

And, of course, there were several cat trees. The bigger ones, with multiple levels, small boxes, and with several dangly toys for the cats to bat around.

"Woah," Sharp said. "This looks like in a movie."

"Take a seat," I said. "Usually I'd offer you something to drink, but you'll have to serve yourself later."

Sharp nodded, removed her backpack, and gingerly set it down on my genuine hardwood floor, right next to the plush rug taking up the centre of the room.

A fair bit of light was coming in from the rear patio doors, so we didn't need to tinker with the lights for the moment. Sharp sat down, and I relocated to her thighs.

The cats arranged themselves in the living room. Arsenic jumped onto the coffee table, Cyanide hopped up next to Sharp, and quiet old Mercury peeked out from the other side of the table like the shy baby he was.

"So," I said. "Some things have changed."

"Obviously," Arsenic said. "You cannot be our pet anymore."

"Mommy isn't a pet," Cyanide said. "Pets are like the serving people Mommy brings to take care of us. Mommy is special and good and loves us very much."

I felt my chest swirl with pride. I would never tell the others, but Cyanide was my favourite. "Thank you, Cyanide."

"Mommy is a baby now," Cyanide said.

"True. How will you provide us with our needs when you are but a kitten?" Arsenic asked.

"Easy, Sharp will do that for me," I replied.

Sharp perked up. "I'm going to do what?"

"Change the litter box, feed and water the cats, and generally take care of grooming, nails, vet visits, parasite prevention..."

Mercury slowly poked his head up a bit higher. "Play?"

"And playing, petting, scratching..." I continued.

Sharp blinked, then smiled. "I think I can do most of that!"

"Good," I said. "In exchange, you'll receive training, some resources, and the right to sleep in my home. We're going to have to make some space for you. Though... I suppose I'm no longer using the master bedroom. I'll insist on you showering before using my bed."

Sharp looked around the room. "I almost can't believe that I get to stay here. This is bigger than my room at the orphanage."

I blinked. The living room was quite large, wasn't it? "You had a large room, then?"

"I mean, I guess, but I shared it with nineteen others."

"Ah," I said. "Well, then yes, you'll find this to be a considerable step up."

"Mommy, what's happening?" Cyanide asked.

I tried to smile at her reassuringly, but I wasn't sure if I conveyed it properly in cat. "Nothing, sweetie," I said. "Now, Sharp, it's time for introductions. My dear cats all have two names, one for... the common outsider and guests, and a true name."

Arsenic puffed himself up.

"The British shorthair here is Arsenic," I said.

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"Arsenic," Sharp repeated. "Like the poison?"

"Exactly. Though in front of others his name is Scenic. It's what his record at the vet says as well. This beautiful lady here is a Siamese, her name is Cyanide. Cya in front of strangers."

"Hi Arsenic, Cyanide," Sharp said with a bow.

"This pet is well trained," Arsenic replied.

"She's getting there," I said. "Anyway, the shy baby over there is Mercury. He's a Maine coon. No second name for him." The name was inoffensive enough as it was. Also, I'd never tell him, but Mercury was a bit of a simple baby.

"Hi Mercury!" Sharp said. Mercury ducked down behind the table to hide again.

"And there's a fourth, though she hasn't shown up yet," I said. I turned to Cyanide for confirmation, and she just blinked languidly at me. "Is Belladonna around?"

"Bella is sleeping Mommy. You know she doesn't like strangers," Cyanide said.

That was a good point. Mercury was a shy baby, but he'd come around eventually for a pat and a scritch. Bella didn't care for any of that. She'd disappear for hours on end and only show up when she wanted something.

"You'll have to meet Belladonna later then, I suppose," I told Sharp. "In the meantime, shall we give you the tour?"

Sharp nodded, and then stood up while scooping me onto her shoulders. Arsenic stared up at me, then meowled at Sharp. "Carry me as well, peon."

I translated his wants to Sharp--with some light censoring, and she scooped him up as well. "Oh, you're a big boy, aren't you?" she asked.

"What did the pet say?" Arsenic demanded to know.

"She said that you are grand and majestic," I lied.

We continued with a tour of the first floor. There was the kitchen nearby, with access both in the dining room part of the living room--a space with a round table and four chairs, as well as a nice cabinet for plates and silverware--and another doorway that led from the kitchen into the opening corridor.

There was a small antechamber in the kitchen with my washer and dryer, as well as a door that lead into the garage where my car was parked.

The car wasn't anything to write home about, a small six-year-old electric hatchback. It could get me to the groceries and back, and that's all that mattered to me. Plus it was paid off, which was nice.

There was a bedroom on the first floor that I'd long since converted into my office and hobby room. The space was a little chilly, having been closed off from the rest of the house since I'd last entered. The cats followed us in and sniffed around, and I had to remind Cyanide that she wasn't allowed next to my 'rock collection.'

In reality, the collection was an excuse to get my hands on some chemical products of dubious legality, I had little interest in geology.

There was a small washroom on the first floor, and a nice walk-in connected to that bedroom-tuned-office.

"The second floor is better," I told Sharp as we made for the stairs.

At the top was a small loft area. I'd never known what to do with it, so I had stuck some gym things there with a small screen on the wall. A stationary bike, one of those resistance trainers, and a fold-up treadmill. Not much, but I intended to put it to use soon with Sharp.

Then there were two bedrooms with a connecting bathroom. One was my storage room. It was a space filled with shelves for books, with a comfy chair for reading and another, larger, cat tree and playground for my babies.

There was also a bench at the back along with a set of four gun safes. My excuse was generally that I'd inherited the weapons from my family, though that wasn't really true at all. Still, as an upstanding citizen who paid all of her taxes on time and who minded her own, with no criminal record and no ties to anyone suspicious, no one had ever questioned my possession of any armaments.

"We'll go over that later," I said.

Finally, the master bedroom. A nice queen-sized bed, with four posters, and a walk-in for all of my clothes, as well as a seat and desk where I could apply makeup. There was an unfortunate amount of cat hair on the bed, I noted.

Really, I had to do something about the quality of cleaning personnel I hired.

"Anyway," I said. "That's it. I hope it meets expectations?"

***