do as the other cats do, tag: amara!

Pax was determined to get inside his apartment building. Just because one old lady didn't like cats and wasn't letting him in didn't mean everyone would be like that. One of the other ladies fed him, and he had almost gotten in when his next door neighbor had left the door open -- but then that old lady had come at him with a broom, and Pax had been quick like lightning to get away. But he wasn't giving up. He was tired of sleeping outdoors, tired of waking up all dirty... and he was beyond tired of licking himself. How did cats do that? It was just... ugh. Pax tried not to think about it, because the more he did, the more he grew afraid that he was going to be a cat permanently. If he changed back into a human, Pax would be more than glad to take Charlotte out on an actual date, and maybe even seriously consider getting married. That would be twenty times better than being a cat.

Hell, anything would be better than being a cat.

There were a few good things about not being human -- no work (although he had probably lost his job given he hadn't been there for a few days...), no dealing with his mother on the phone (although she had probably called in the police to look for him, which might mean he hadn't lost his job after all!), and no having to take out the trash every Tuesday morning. They were small things, and not really good reasons to be a cat forever. In fact, Pax was starting to miss some of the mundane things that had been part of his life before this whole cat thing.

And how had he turned into a cat in the first place? Just thinking about it gave Pax a headache, which quickly made him not think about it. But at some point he was going to have to figure out how that had happened, and more importantly, why it had happened. What had he ever done to deserve being a cat? Okay, maybe that was the reason. Pax wasn't much for putting a lot of effort into anything anymore, so he supposed his laziness could be why -- but he didn't think that was a very good reason. Had he pissed off a witch or something? Oh man, he really hoped that wasn't the case. He was definitely going to use the fact that he hadn't known the witch was a witch defense -- but he hadn't realized any had existed. But if monsters existed, then that had to mean there were ghosts and witches, right?

If he ever became a human again, that was definitely something Pax would need to ask someone.

He sighed forlornly, his kitty head going up to gaze at the door of his apartment building. If he became human again, he was definitely insisting on lowering the door knobs. Or installing a cat door in the back so he could feed the strays... that's what he would say it was for. But really, if there was a chance he could be a cat again after being human (which hurt his head even more to think about), he wanted to be sure there was a way for him to get back inside. He was definitely installing a cat door in his apartment door when he was human again... if he was ever human again.

Come on, he thought to himself, willing the door to open. Someone has to have a heart and take pity on me. Look at me, I'm a poor defenseless animal alone in the world. I'm soft, I'm cuddly -- I have a squished nose! Women are supposed to love funny looking animals!

Pax let out a pitiful meow, wincing at the sound. That didn't sound cute at all. No wonder no one was taking pity on his poor self! But Pax didn't have time to think about that as the sound of footsteps caused him to turn around. At last, a human! Now it was time to turn on the charm. He didn't bother looking up to see which tenant it was, simply throwing himself onto his back to expose his belly (which had to be make them ooo and aaah)... and promptly felt the person trip over him.

Well, that was probably a bad start to things.

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words; 736 | notes; thread 003/004 in cat-form

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Amara had gone out for late shopping. Well, later than she usually went shopping. The whole point was that she hated going shopping. That was why she only bought a few items. The first was a few rice balls, which she already ate. The second thing she bought was some bread and the last thing was a few things to throw in the microwave. So it was not the most appetizing food that could be bought for consumption but hey, if anybody else wanted to eat her idiot father could go out himself. The twenty-three year old was not in the mood to go on a full on grocery spree. She hardly was. The food was for her and maybe for other use if they could get to it fast enough. Her life was finally getting back to normal. She still had no idea what funk she was in earlier. After being overly helpful in her opinion at least- people were finally starting to treat her like normal. So now she could go back to her usual shopping and everything else habits of treating herself first.The ride back to her apartment was rather normal. That was how life was, normal. There were still strange things going on in the city. Though, if anything ruined her drive her or car while going home they will have to pay for it. With what… well, she’ll think of something. Lucky for her and the world, she did not have to worry about that right now. Amara reached home rather uneventfully. She grabbed her one bag of groceries in the front seat before heading up. She was a tad bit hungry so once she got up she will consume a few slices of bread as well. What she needed was some meat though she was not the most comfortable cooking a slab without burning the whole building down. She was getting on people’s good side- neutral side- the last thing she needed was a bunch of homeless neighbors sending a mob after her. The thought made her wince. Yeah… that was not a pretty picture to imagine.Amara was almost home one floor and three doors to be precise when she tripped over something. She was not a klutz. Whatever had caused it was completely to blame. She was relieved that she did not buy eggs. Being covered in broken eggs and shells was not pleasant. Plus, it would have been a waste of money. The worst that could happen was that her bread was squashed. Her hand was scraped but that would heal within a couple days. She growled, standing up and brushing grit off her hand. She left her bag on the ground and turned to the culprit. It was a cat. Birds were her favorite animals; they had the freedom she so desperately wanted. Cats were also admirable. They had the grace and control that made them up there on her list. She couldn’t say if this cat had made the list. It was kind of… ugly. It looked like it ran into a brick wall or something. Amara guessed she stepped on its tail. A step on its chest would probably cause it to collapse and she’ll have to call vet ER. She glared at it. She got the impression that it wanted to get her attention. How insane was that? She heard a couple people talking about a stray cat hanging around here lately but she brushed it off. It was none of her concern. Now, apparently, it was. She tripped over it and even though her automatic reactions were to huff and turn around- or step on its tail again for its trouble- and continue the remaining yards home. Maybe it because she felt obliged to be helpful on her supposed sour mood lately. There was a small bit of pity for the squashed face ugly cat that had been stuck around the apartment. There wasn’t anything she could do, no cat friendly food and she doubted it will understand that she was trying to help. Why did she feel like she had to try? “What do you want?” she asked, continuing to give the cat a cross look. If it acted like it didn’t understand her, which it would, she will go upstairs to her comfortable room. Less than a minute walk left and it had to take a strange turn fueled by obligation.

How did one rectify injuring a human? Hell, what was Pax saying? He was human -- just not right this moment. Still, should he be worried that the person was dead, or worse?

Rolling over, Pax pushed himself onto his feet (all four of them) and made his way over to inspect the fallen individual. It was a she, and she didn't look over dead. A bit banged up, but certainly not dead. That was good news; it meant Pax wouldn't be considered a murdered... not that he really thought a cat could be called a murderer, but the idea of having killed someone would probably have haunted him for the rest of his life.

He recognized the woman as being a neighbor. Pax didn't know her that well, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. He always made himself friendly to people as they came and went in the apartment building -- new friends was just nice to have, especially if any of those new friends chose to throw a party or something and kindly invited him over. That was probably the sole reason Pax went around making new friends, but he doubted he was the only one that did that. Of course, it would help if there were nicer people in his apartment building. It wasn't that they were mean... but quite a few of them seemed to frown at Pax when he came by, or turned around and went in the opposite direction. He didn't really get why they did that, but he supposed it had something to do with his being a little over-the-top when he greeted them. Pax would never admit to such a thing, but his friends had told him it was probably a likely reason why his neighbors weren't as quick to befriend him as he was them.

But this time it would be different. For one thing, Pax was a cat -- and cats were cute. And women were supposed to love cute cats, which had to win him a few awards, right? Just because the woman had tripped over him, and the fact that he had almost killed her, didn't really matter. Perhaps she'd think she had killed him and take pity on him. He certainly hoped that he was a cat lover, and nothing like the mean old lady that kept chasing him away. That lady didn't have a heart, and Pax was never going to try being friendly to her again when he was human. Ever.

His hopes of the woman cooing over him were sort of dashed when she looked his way. She didn't look very pleased -- maybe a little annoyed. But she wasn't getting up to chase him off, so that had to be a good sign, however small it was. Pax allowed himself to venture forward a little bit, pausing at her words. He almost spoke up, but remembered how that had went with Tony awhile back. It probably wasn't a good idea to freak her out while they were still outside. Maybe after he was safely inside the building he could attempt talking, and hopefully she'd be a little more receptive to a talking cat than Tony had been.

But how else could Pax get across that he wanted inside? What did other cats do? Pax racked his brain again, trying to remember what normal cats acted like. He had never had a cat before, so he couldn't really be sure. He just had his mom's dog... well, it was lost, but minor details. A dog was still different than cats, which meant Pax didn't have a clue how other cats acted. Maybe whenever he got out of this cat body he could get himself a cat and figure out how they functioned.

Until then, however, he was on his own in acting like a cat. He cleared his throat slightly, putting a paw forward, and proceeded to meow. It didn't come out very nicely -- Pax was still unused to the cat vocals he could tap into, or say. He wasn't sure how that really worked, and it hardly mattered. He simply let himself act like a cat, with warbling meows and all. He thought he sounded like a cat, so Pax felt emboldened and stepped closer to the woman, even attempting to rub against her.

Feed me! Feed me! Take me in -- feed me! Pax willed his thoughts in the woman's direction, hoping against hope she would be able to hear him, or at least take a gander as to what he wanted. Food, a safe place to stay. It would be so much easier if she could read minds, which was why he kept willing the words to be heard by her... however they could.

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words; 796 | notes; <3

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Amara blinked down at the cat. The thing did not seem angry that she had almost killed it from tripping over the thing. It may think of being the murderer but she had a higher chance of hurting it in the process then he did. Seeing that it looked guilty, she decided it was rather healthy and unfazed. Thing? It? What gender was the cat anyway? It was weird thinking of an animate creature that was not a worm to not identify a gender. The size of the fluffy orange ball suggested that it was male. It was way too big to be considered a female. If it was, it was a rather fat female. There was no way to be sure though, besides picking it up and checking. That was the last thing that she would be doing. He- as it would therefore be called- looked calm after being tripped over but she had no idea. She was not into cats though she knew bites and scratches from felines could turn serious. Who knew how long he was lost stranded on the streets?Pushing the thoughts of animal borne diseases out of her mind she continued to look at the cat. Yes, she was hoping that the orange feline would leave her alone after the first few seconds had passed. This whole interaction had a bad start, with the tripping and that would be good cause for the cat to flee once it had the chance. He was bolder than that. She held in a sigh; kicking it would do but she was not that cruel. Besides, he looked like he was still begging for something. Chances were that something was food. She had nothing to give it that she already figured out. She should turn and walk away. Trying to help the small feline out would give her a headache. Attempting for a bird in high school had failed before it even begun. Animal responsibility was not her thing. Amara was in the thought process of turning around and continuing in her apartment. Then she stopped, her eyes narrowing. The cat could do one of three things when she turned around. It could give up and leave, not likely. Being enough desperation, it may claw at her until she conceded to give it food or yowl to the night and make a ruckus for the whole apartment.She raised her hands up in defeat, pressing them to her eyes to clear her head. Cat food, what on earth did cats like to eat? She could try milk and maybe other human food. There were some tuna that nobody was having anytime soon. Those were two safe bets to give him. That it was desperate and hungry enough chances were that it would eat anything. Sending a glare down at the cat she let out the sigh, “Fine, I’ll get you some food. Once you eat though you have to get out.” She couldn’t imagine how her father would react to feeding a stray cat. It wasn’t something that she did every day. She was getting soft. There had to be positive and negatives in her personality and after the negative Amara felt that positive was all she could do. Hopefully, neutral cool would come back to her soon.She gathered all her food and walked back up to the stairs. The fluffy cat would have to keep up on its four feet. She would feed it but not slow her pace down for it. Reaching her door a moment later she pulled out her keys while the cat was catching up, if it followed her at all. Hearing a satisfactory click as the door was unlocked, she pushed it open. Leaving a small crack so that he could enter behind her she looked around. The place was messy though after complying with a cat she had no inclination to pick the place up. Luckily, she was the only one that was home. It took her a minute to get a bowl of milk out and open the stupid can of tuna. She sent irritated glares over her shoulder, unsure why she was doing this. Hopefully, good karma would come back to her. Not that she was the one to believe in that stuff. Deciding the cat would not be fussy with what the tuna was contained in she put the open can on the floor. “There, enjoy.” Her voice was rough for saying the gracious words but hell, it was only a cat. He could take it or leave it.

Pax waited patiently with bated breath. He didn't know Amara that well despite living in the same building as her, so he wasn't sure if she was going to be one of those closeted cat lovers, or if she would be the kind of person that would pat him on the head in way of an apology. Pax was really hoping for the former, because he could do with a little good luck after the series of bad luck that had been plaguing him lately. Or just because he was a cat -- that was as bad as it could get in his eyes, and really, aside from that creepy yarn monster, the being turned into a cat was all that had happened to him lately. It would be really nice to have a stroke of good luck, or even partially good luck, for once.

It seemed like he waited for hours before Amara gave in. Pax could hide the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. She was agreeing to feed him, and even though she was telling him he'd have to leave right after that, Pax was determined to make this last as long as possible. Just getting into the apartment building would be a bonus after the last few days. He could always vanish if she really did insist on kicking him back out into the cold, cruel world. Then Pax could work on lurking until his apartment magically opened... okay, he'd just have to work on lurking since even he couldn't think of a single reason why his door would pop open, or anyone that might come looking for him. His mother, perhaps, but she wasn't much of a cat person -- she'd be just like that evil lady that kept chasing him away.

Pax didn't really give himself time to stop and think things over as Amara moved. He simply followed her. She had already made a promise for food, and Pax was definitely going to keep her to that promise. He could try and work on the pitiful cat act once he was inside, although he wasn't sure how to do that since the cute and cuddly cat act hadn't really worked... well, it had, but not quite in the way it was supposed to work. Then again, Pax had never been very good about making things work the way they were supposed to. He normally just bungled things around until something good came of it, or at least went in his favor -- kind of like managing to get Amara to feed him despite almost trying to kill her.

Unfortunately for Pax, he hadn't counted on how long the walk would be to the apartment. Amara had long legs, and they covered a lot of distance in a few strides, whereas his tiny legs had to practically gallop after her. Pax really wasn't cut out to be a cat. Why couldn't he just be human again? Maybe he ought to start wishing on a star or two... or a few dozen. He really couldn't be a cat for the rest of his life -- he was already tired of licking himself. Whenever that first hairball came out, it was going to probably kill him!

As soon as the apartment door was open, Pax bounded inside, not waiting for Amara to reconsider her offer. Her place looked to have the same layout as his, although she definitely had a different taste in furniture than he did. He wrinkled his nose as best he could, beginning to inspect some of the new smells in the apartment. He didn't get a chance to make a formal opinion about the apartment (other than it had a funny smell and was quite messy) since moments later the smell of tuna piqued his senses. Pax practically drooled as the can was lowered, his face mashing against the tuna so he could devour it. He couldn't remember how long it had been since his last decent meal -- the smell had simply alerted his stomach to the fact that it had been awhile, though.

Within seconds the food was gone, and Pax had a satisfied stomach. He sat back on his haunches, his tongue trying to wipe away the last shreds of his meal from his lips. As he did so, his eyes began to wander around the apartment a second time, this time seeking out a potential hiding spot should his new hostess want to be true to her words of him needing to leave after the food. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten the tuna so quickly... he could only hope he was faster than Amara if it came to push and shove. He bet he could wiggle his way under the bed in the nearest bedroom. The door didn't seem to be shut all the way. Pax filed the thought to one side as a contented burp left his throat. Blinking sheepishly, he murmured, "Oops, sorry."

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words; 828 | notes; <3

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Sure, there was a part of her that hoped the cat would not follow her back. Or, that she could trap it outside. That was not the nicest thing to do and even the sarcastic and rough blond had some pity in her. Amara did not know how she would react if she found out the cat starved to death the next couple days. It did look that pathetic and some food could be spared for the poor thing. She just would avoid mentioning she shared some pity for a roadside animal. Who knew what would happen to her repetition? She shook her head with a bemused smile. As long as she could get it to leave after it was done eating, she’ll be good.Amara moved to put her small amount of groceries away as the cat entered the apartment. The place was messy and the food and kitchen had the first priority. It was an orange fluff ball. She doubted that it cared if the place was tidy. If it had been stuck on the streets for the last who knew how long, any warm apartment will work well for the feline. She glanced behind her shoulder to make sure it wasn’t getting in trouble. Determining it was digging into the tuna and behaving, the twenty-three year old moved to get some food in her stomach. She cut a slice of the bread she bought and hunted down the jam. The problem was there was no set spot for any groceries. Whoever made it home first put it where it made the most sense at that time. That spot was often forgotten so left disorganization in the kitchen. Finally finding apple jam, she smothered the bread. She folded the slice, taking a quick bite. There was time later to make a proper meal.She had almost forgotten the orange cat only being aware of the noise of it munching on the tuna. That sound soon died off as it finished it off rather quickly. The orange cat must have been starving if it ate that quickly. Amara liked to do things fast but eating always was a subtle ordeal. Being sick or throwing up from eating too fast did not sound pleasant to her at the least. Casting a sharp look over her shoulder, she checked to see the orange cat was not coughing up fish mucus. The tom would be out of the apartment in a heartbeat, in a not so pleasant exit. That was not something she wanted to pick up after. She did not hear any hacking up, which was good, but a noise came out sounding like a burp. Coming from a cat, it sounded awkward. Maybe not the right word… out of place, messed up? She had no idea. Shaking her blond hair out of the way, she dismissed it.It was harder to dismiss the fact that it excused itself afterward. A moment of silence covered the room for a second and she thought she was hearing things. That was the only way to explain it. It was also possible that someone said it outside the door, or window and the noise drifted into the apartment. She decided not to check to see if any windows were open. If they were all closed, it would prove her insanity. With the last few weeks, she did not need to do that. A hand went through her hair, tugging at the locks to get sanity back into her. “I’m going crazy.” She muttered under her breath. Realizing she failed to set out the milk for the cat to drink, she did so. The bowl went next to the empty tuna can. “Here kitty, drink this and you can leave.” The fact she used kitty really scared her. She needed to kick this cat out and get back to her senses. She deposited the can to the garbage before going to sit down on the coach. The curious ginger feline remained at the corner of her vision.

Pax quickly tried to put on an innocent look, although he had absolutely no idea how that worked in a cat's body. He just hoped that his mumbling hadn't been heard, or that if it had, it wouldn't be taken seriously. Amara seemed to give him a strange look, but Pax continued to try and look innocent... likely looking sick in the process. Being a cat was much harder than he had anticipated. Of course, that meant he had anticipated what life would be like as a cat, and Pax hadn't even wanted to be a cat in the first place. That had been someone else's doing. Some kind of witch or voodoo witch doctor. He wasn't sure which yet, but he figured that wasn't as important as finding a way to be human again. Life was going on without him, and Pax wasn't sure what that would mean when he was human again. His job, his fiancee, his family -- all the things he had been taking for granted, or not really caring about, could all be gone when he was human again, and that was a rather scary, and sobering thought.

Whether Pax had truly looked innocent or not, Amara seemed to decide not to try and goad him to talk. It was actually much better than Tony when Pax had accidentally spoken to him; Tony had actually questioned his sanity aloud, but Amara seemed to be going the "pretend it never happened" route. Pax was liking her all the more. Or maybe she was used to hearing cats talk... Pax furrowed his kitty eyebrows, wondering if there were other talking cats out there. He really ought to investigate, because if there were, perhaps they knew how to be human again. Or maybe they'd let him join their pack so he would starve for the rest of his life.

He peered up at Amara as she muttered she was crazy, and he had to suppress a sigh. Okay, she was a lot more like Tony with the cat talking thing than he had thought. That was probably good to know, because it probably meant Pax couldn't do any serious talking to her. Making her kick him out because he was talking wouldn't work very well for him. It was nice of her to bring him in, and feed him -- though Pax couldn't deny that he was really missing spaghetti and meatballs right now. But her apartment was kind of cozy, and Pax had already found himself a place to sleep for the night... unless he had to hide under the bed to avoid the boot. Apparently his apartment complex was not a kitty friendly place, which was very, very disappointing. When Pax was human, he'd start up a campaign to make people love cats more. Along with his earlier thoughts of installing cat doors everywhere. It made more sense to be pro-cat in the future, especially since the whole becoming a cat thing, had happened in the blink of an eye. He might be the only talking cat, or former human-turned-cat right now, but that didn't mean more wouldn't turn into one later. After all, whatever witch had cursed him was still running around shooting curses at other people.

The smell of milk hit Pax's nostrils, and he found himself moving closer to the new bowl on the floor that Amara had just deposited. He paused, however, at her words. Leave? She wasn't adopting him? She was kicking him out after just one meal? Of all the cruel and heartless things to do! Pax inched closer to the bowl of milk, his mind racing. He needed a plan. A good plan. Not just a hide under the bed plan -- he needed to get Amara to give him a place to stay for a few days... but how? He lapped some milk, still thinking, and then inspiration struck. He would act. Taking a few more laps of milk, Pax put his quickly formed plan (and badly so) into action.

Flopping onto his side, and into the milk bowl, upending it everywhere, Pax began to howl. It sounded bad, which was the intent, though part of him wondered if perhaps he sounded like that on a regular basis. He could worry about that later, though. All he needed was for Amara to think he was in pain. Maybe he should lift a paw up as though it hurt... though that wouldn't make sense. Maybe he'd claim a stomach ache. Cats got those, right?

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words; 755 | notes; <3

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Amara wondered what was going through cats’ minds and more specifically what this cat was thinking. The fact that she was questioning it in the first place continued to question her sanity. She was not an animal person thus since she was thinking about what they were thinking meant she was going a little crazy. The blond did not like this fact at all. She did not need to go questioning things like that. The positive aspect she considered was her confidence. Sometimes it was over confidence but it never went in the opposite direction. At least, the last time it did she couldn’t remember. It put her in her mind a sense of uncertainty that made her uncomfortable. The last thing someone should consider was their sanity. If they were considering that then something was very wrong. Still, it was impossible not to think what was going through the cat’s head. For one thing, it seemed to be intently listening to her and had a look of understanding at her words that other cats or nonhumans shouldn’t understand with language. Then there was the fact that it supposedly, maybe, talked. She shook her head. If she continued down that way she will be mad.The cat looked interested into the milk. Something else seemed to click inside it though. What it was, she had no idea but it suddenly plopped over, spilt the milk and started wailing. OK, the orange fluff ball was certainly more trouble than it was worth. She will have to pick that milk up, with a vacuum or something, so it didn’t stain and stink up the carpet. Because it denied the milk, it used up the reason for being here. She should throw it out. Something may be wrong with it, however. She did not have a conscious mindset but Amara will still feel bad if she kicked it out and found it dead or dying the next morning. She sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead. What could she do about it? She had no cat medicine and no money or time to bother going down to the vet to get something. Needing to know the problem was essential when trying to fix it, she did not know what was wrong with the cat. One thing was sure as she glared at it, it was definitely a male. She rolled her eyes, walking away from the feline.She was not going to touch the thing. Simply because she had no idea if it had some disease with its wailing. What she did not want was rabies or something along those lines. It seemed rather tame and wasn’t drooling but what would she know? It looked almost half-starved and certainly desperate enough to get in situations that would contract a disease. She will find another way to shut it up. Walking over to her bag, she shuffled through it until she found what she found her phone. She wanted to get the cat out before her father got home but there was no helping it. fluff ball invasion. it’s sick. She did not know when she will get a message back. They all usually- ok maybe not- had good driving habits on the road. There was still a small chance she could kick it out before anyone else got here. She sighed, stuffing the phone back into her bag. Then she turned back to the cat. “You can shut up now, go lay down on those blankets if you’re really feeling that bad. I drive by a vet tomorrow so I’ll drop you off there.” She thought she remembered where the vet was, not that she ever had to go. Hopefully, it will change its mind and just leave. She can leave the window open. Right now, all she could do was comply to it unless it attacked her in his possibly-rabies state. Not knowing how well it could understand her, she motioned to the blankets. Then she started finishing the rest of her jam bread.

Pax decided it was a good sign that Amara was pressing her hand to her head and not immediately yelling at him. Maybe he really was doing a good job playing at her heartstrings or something. It was kind of nice to discover that he was a much better actor than he had originally thought. If he never became human again, he could always see about getting himself a career as a film cat or something. Weren't they still doing the occasional children's film or show about kids and animals? Pax would be perfect for it because he'd actually be able to follow the director's lead! It was kind of nice to suddenly have a backup plan if he ended up an orange ball of fur for the rest of his life. He didn't necessarily want to put all his eggs in one basket, of course, but if he had to, that would be the way to go if he couldn't go back to being a human cop.

He craned his neck a little as Amara walked past him, uncertain as to what her next plans were. He didn't want to seem like he was overly curious about this, but if she was about to get a broom or something, Pax would need to scramble up and run for cover -- like under the bed... although now that he thought about it, a broom could probably get him back out again. Maybe she'd be a slow chaser and Pax could find another nifty hiding spot. The top of the curtains or something. He wasn't sure how good he would be at climbing, but what better way to find out if he was trying to avoid being kicked out onto the streets? Pax would really have to do a better job of finding genuine cat lovers to take pity on him. Where were those people when you needed them?

But there didn't seem to be an immediate need to worry about that just yet. Amara hadn't gotten a broom, but instead had gone for her cellphone. Pax wasn't sure why, unless she was calling the pound to come get him. His eyes widened at the thought. The only thing he knew about the pound was what he had seen on television... and the cartoons obviously didn't paint the pound in a very good light. Pax really hoped that wasn't what she was going to do to him. He'd never see the light again! And if he turned back into a human there (if that was even possible), what then? Explain what had happened? He'd only be sent to the loony bin! So, needless to say, Pax experienced several panicked moments as Amara fiddled with her phone, but relief flooded him when she turned back around and told him to go sit on the blankets.

Thank-god! She has a heart after all! Pax slowly got to his feet, making a face as he realized he still had some milk on his orange coat. Making sure to keep up the pretense that he was deathly ill, Pax made his way over to the blankets, hoping he still had the cat act going for him. Settling down, Pax eyed Amara warily as she went back to her food, but she didn't seem to be humming about him leaving... though the idea of going to the vet wasn't very exciting. Pax would have to find his way out of here before then. Vets poked and prodded, and that would absolutely not happen to the likes of Pax. Nodding to himself that he could make a break in the morning, he turned his attention to his fur. He needed to do something about that milk. Almost instinctively he began to clean himself as cats were wont to do, and all he could think as he did so was how utterly disgusting cats were.

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words; 647 | notes; <3

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