caillech2000@yahoo.com

http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html

Author’s notes: This is for Spacey…monsta beta-brat and cat lover.

"It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best."

No cats were harmed in the writing of this story.

******

Unaware that he was being stalked, Blair eagerly dashed down the street from the small bakery, heading toward Prospect. The smell of the freshly baked buttermilk donuts teased his nostrils and taste buds. Smiling to himself, he wondered just how much more heavenly the aroma would be if he had Jim’s heightened sense of smell.

He had gotten up early in order to make it to the bakery while the donuts were still fresh and warm. Blair was able to distinguish the taste of cinnamon and nutmeg that made these particular treats one of Jim’s favorites. But Jim steadfastly refused to divulge to Blair the secret ingredient that made them Mrs. Sauter’s trademark item.

Today was to be ‘Jim Day’…so proclaimed by Blair because it was the first day in over three weeks that the two men had the day completely to themselves. No classes, no meetings, no papers due, no stakeouts, no court dates, no paperwork to finish up at the station.

It had been Jim, for a change, who had been pushing himself lately…working two particularly nasty cases. He had been putting in long hours, skipping meals and sleeping poorly. After signing the last report on the second of the two cases last night and placing them in his captain’s in basket, Jim had been directed by Simon to take the next two days off.

And the guide had every intention of seeing to it that his sentinel took full advantage of the well-deserved down time. This special treat was just the beginning of a day filled with Blair-designed sentinel/guide, father/son relaxation activities.

The shadow Blair had picked up was staying close, dodging in and out of bushes…his intense green eyes glued to the back of the scurrying young man.

A red light forced Blair to a halt as he reached Prospect. Bouncing impatiently on his feet, Blair muttered at the light. "Come on, come on…" He became aware of an odd sensation…of being watched. Glancing quickly around at the other early morning passers-by he couldn’t pinpoint anyone paying him any notice. As the light turned to green, he shrugged off the strange feeling and resumed his trek toward home.

The stalker kept pace.

Blair slowed as 852 came into view… the uneasy feeling of being watched once again teasing him. He turned and surveyed his surroundings, calmly observing the people walking past, traffic moving along, and other routine daily activities.

He jumped as he felt something brush his leg. Looking down he saw a small black kitten weaving a figure eight between his ankles, its tail held high…softly caressing Blair’s calf. A soft purr vibrated against his ankles and two emerald green eyes looked adoringly up into the dark blue orbs of a totally smitten, hopefully soon-to-be cat owner.

Blair reached down timidly, and began to carefully caress the scrawny coal-black feline. "Hey there, little fella…you sure had me freaked out. I thought someone was following me. Well, I guess someone was following me, but…well, you know what I mean." Blair chuckled quietly to himself as the kitten continued to stare up at him as if saying ‘of course I know exactly what you mean’.

"Are you hungry? Huh? How about a treat?" The kitten allowed Blair to pick him up. Blair retraced his last few steps, holding the kitten gently against his chest and seated himself on the empty bench at the corner bus stop.

As Blair reached into the bakery bag, the small head pulled up from his embrace to intently follow his every move. Extracting one of the donuts, Blair began to break it into small pieces, allowing his little friend to nibble on the tidbits.

Blair thought back to his childhood. He remembered how envious he was of the kids he’d met that were allowed to have a pet. Naomi had never even allowed him to have a stuffed animal…pets had definitely been out of the question.

Blair pulled his legs up under himself to sit cross-legged on the bench, fashioning a comfy little nest into which the kitten quickly settled. Blair lazily stroked the matted fur and tickled the tiny ears as the kitten purred and ate. He watched in amusement as a tiny pink tongue poked in and out, meticulously cleaning the petite paws. Its belly now full, the kitten stretched, yawned and with a quick look of thanks hopped off Blair’s lap and darted away.

"No…don’t go…" Blair said forlornly, but the scruffy little ball of fur had already disappeared from view.

Dejected, Blair dragged himself from the bench absently brushing stray leftover crumbs off the front of his shirt. He refolded the crumpled top of the bag and once again headed toward 852 Prospect…the eagerness of moments earlier to begin ‘Jim Day’ now diminished.

******

By the time he entered the loft, Blair had shaken off the gloomy feeling that had overtaken him upon the departure of the small kitten. It was, after all, only a cat.

Jim’s nose led him from the balcony, where he had been appraising the upcoming day, and into the kitchen… with a beatific smile on his face as he recognized the tantalizing aroma resulting from Blair’s early morning errand.

Rubbing his hands in eager anticipation, Jim grabbed the bag from his son’s loose grip and dove in. He spent several moments in blissful appreciation of the delectable smell emanating from the open bag before taking his first bite of the sweet confection. He sunk blissfully into one of the chairs and quietly devoured two donuts before looking up. "Thanks, Chief…this is the perfect start to ‘Jim-Day’. What’s up next?"

"Um…I was wondering…do you think I could get a pet?" Blair blurted the words out before he even realized he was thinking them. It suddenly seemed really important that he be allowed to have a pet.

Jim looked at his son, a surprised, bemused look on his face. "A pet? Like a goldfish?" He didn’t understand how this fit in with ‘Jim-Day’ but he was willing to play along.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Blair retorted. "No…not like a goldfish. I mean like a real pet…you know, like a…a…like a cat." Blair felt as if he were eight years old again and arguing with Naomi about being allowed to be the child who could keep the class bunny over the spring holiday…or adopt one of the free hamsters posted on the bulletin board at the local market…or look after Kyle’s parakeet for a weekend. Naomi’s answer had always been no. It seemed quite important to Blair, just now, that Jim not say no.

Blair’s curt remark surprised Jim. Realizing that Blair might be half way serious in his request, Jim decided it would be best to nip the idea in the bud.

"No way, kiddo. First of all, we both have schedules that would make it very hard to give any pet the type of care or attention it would need. Animals are time consuming and messy and smelly. I think you know there is no way my senses would be able to tolerate any kind of animal in here." Jim looked at Blair again, this time trying to understand the sudden demand.

No. The answer was no…again.

Blair blinked rapidly, looking at Jim.

Jim…not Naomi.

The answer was no because Jim was right…and Blair wasn’t eight.

As quickly as the need to have the answer be yes had materialized, it disappeared.

"Never mind…sorry…silly of me. I don’t know where that came from." Blair shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Jim. He moved quickly past Jim into the living room. Motioning for Jim to follow him, he pointed to the couch indicating that Jim should take a seat.

Blair turned the TV on, popped in a cassette, hurried over to plop down next to his dad and tossed the remote on Jim’s lap. Sinking comfortably into the cushions and stretching his stocking clad feet out onto the coffee table, he nodded at Jim to do the same.

Once they were both situated to Blair’s satisfaction in totally veggied-out positions, Blair declared with a flourish, "I have, for our viewing pleasure, the complete Lethal Weapon series. Let ‘Jim-Day’ commence!"

He waggled his eyebrows at Jim, scrunched down further into the cushions and waited for it.

Jim reached over and playfully swatted Blair’s head, affectionately tousled the wild curls and then let his arm drop down onto Blair’s shoulder, giving his son a quick hug.

Jim, the master of one word commands and sentences, voiced his approval.

"Perfect."

******

Over the next few days Blair’s little friend began to show up on a regular basis outside of 852 Prospect…showing himself only when Blair was alone. The young grad student made a point of stowing morsels of food in pockets so that a treat could be offered whenever the kitten appeared. He delighted in the fact that the tiny creature seemed to crave the attention being bestowed upon it by Blair, who would always manage to steal a few extra minutes for petting and caressing.

About a week after the stray feline had shown up, Blair once again seized an opportunity to spend some time with the little vagabond. It wasn’t his turn to haul the trash out to the dumpster in the back alley, but he volunteered anyway. Jim shrugged and happily complied with his son’s gesture, grateful not to have to deal with the smell and mess.

As Blair made his way to the dumpster he noted with dismay that the sky promised a major storm in the very near future. The kitten seemed oblivious to the upcoming storm, contenting itself with lazily arching its back against Blair’s legs…purring in abject approval of his adopted human’s every move.

"Oh, man…look at that sky. We’re in for some heavy duty rain action here, guy." Worriedly looking down at the scruffy little creature, Blair wondered what the kitten would do for shelter.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the sky opened up and large raindrops began falling. The kitten began a pitiful mewing clearly conveying to his human that he was not pleased.

At this moment having several college degrees didn’t seem to help Blair at all as he frantically tried to decide what to do about the distraught kitten. The mewing became louder as a clap of thunder and flash of lightening joined the increasing downpour.

Not knowing what else to do, Blair scooped the kitten up and blanketed it in the folds of his shirt. He wouldn’t…couldn’t leave ‘tiny’ out here alone. Blair recalled clearly his own misery at being left alone by Naomi to fend for himself when he was small and defenseless.

"Shhh…shhh…It’s okay, I’m here…please don’t cry…"

He knew he couldn’t take the kitten back up to the loft. Jim had made it clear that a pet in the loft was not going to be allowed.

Miserably, Blair clutched the kitten to his chest and lowered himself down onto the grimy pavement, scrunching himself into a ball while protectively enveloping his small charge.

Not caring that he was becoming drenched, only concerned that ‘tiny’ be kept warm, dry and safe, Blair began rocking slowly. Hearing and feeling the contented purr that began its vibrating rhythm against his rib cage, tears of joy and frustration trickled down Blair’s cheeks.

******

The blinding flash of lightening momentarily disoriented Jim, but he quickly dialed down both his sight and hearing before the accompanying boom of thunder could deafen him.

Adjusting his senses to acceptable levels, he reached out to locate his guide and assure himself that all was well.

Expecting to hear the familiar heartbeat nearby, Jim panicked for a minute before remembering that Blair had said he was going to take the trash out. Extending his hearing, Jim bolted for the door and rushed out of the loft as he registered the frantic heartbeat and short ragged breaths of his son.

Jim came running down the alley and slid to a halt on the rain-slick pavement as he spotted the miserably huddled figure tightly plastered against the wall next to the dumpster.

"Blair…Blair, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?" Kneeling down next to his son, Jim reached out to run a hand up and down the nearest arm, trying to determine what, if any, injuries were present.

Looking up at his father through wet, tangled curls Blair stuttered out his predicament. "I-I c-couldn’t just leave him out…out h-here, Jim. He’s all-all a-alone and he…he…he expects me t-to take care of him."

Jim noticed the tiny movements beneath Blair’s shirt as the presence of a second, softer heartbeat reached his ears. He carefully pulled back a corner of Blair’s shirt to reveal the object of Blair’s distress.

Tear filled eyes pleaded with Jim for understanding, comfort and assistance as Blair whispered an explanation. "I know I’m being silly, dad…it’s just a cat…but…"

Jim pulled Blair up and into a comforting hug, careful not to squash the small feline pressed between them. "It’s not silly, kiddo…not if it’s important to you. Come on. Let’s get both of you upstairs and dried out and then we’ll work out what to do."

******

After throwing the pile of wet towels and clothes in the washer, Jim walked back into the living room and smiled happily at the sight that greeted him. Blair lay sprawled on the couch, dried curls fanned out around his peacefully sleeping face. A small black ball of silky fur lay nestled on Blair’s chest. One hand was draped protectively across the tiny body, as if Blair feared that the stray would change its mind and take flight.

Jim crossed to the door and opened it to reveal William poised with his right hand raised and ready to knock.

"Thanks for coming, dad. Are you sure you want to do this?" Jim nodded his head toward the couch.

"For my grandson? Of course I will." William took in the endearing sight before him and grinned.

One blue eye pried itself open. "Poppa? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

His eyes never leaving Blair, William jerked a thumb toward his son, who was keeping his distance from the sneezing-fit inducing animal perched on his son’s chest.

"Jim tells me that you seem to have adopted a cat, or more accurately, a cat has adopted you." William approached and crouched down to trail his index finger across the kitten’s fluffed back. "Since you can’t keep it here because of Jim’s allergies and the hectic schedules you both keep, I have generously agreed to allow said creature to reside at my house." William winked at Blair. "On the condition that you visit both the cat and your generous grandfather on a regular basis."

Fully awake now, Blair grabbed Tiny and jumped off the couch. Throwing his arms around his grandfather he laughed out his thanks. "Thanks, Poppa…this’ll be great. And he won’t be any trouble, I promise. I’ll take care of getting his shots and a litter box and I’ll pick up the cat food and toys…can’t forget toys. And…"

Holding Tiny up Blair peered into the green eyes and assumed his best Jim-command voice. "You had better behave yourself, young man. Let’s go over the ‘Rules’."

End.