his claws and made me bleed. I was left with one conclusion.
Salty = a furry demon.
Even though the cat may or may not have been the spawn of Satan himself, the view from the windows was more than worth the danger. The house was small, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, the rest of the house being made up of an eat-in kitchen with a wooden table and a living room with tons of windows. Every room in the house had a view of the ocean (except for one of the bathrooms).
The windows spanned the length of the back of the house, offering panoramic views of the surf meeting the sand. Beyond the windows , the house sported a large, weathered wooden deck filled with lounge chairs for taking in the view. Stretching off the deck was a set of wooden stairs and a wooden path that led directly onto the sand. Between the house and the beach was a sand dune littered with seashells, tall grasses, and piles of sand.
Though small, the house was nice, with wicker furniture and soft linen cushions, light-painted walls, and a brightly patterned round ottoman as the coffee table. There was a small TV against the wall, sitting on a rustic-looking console table and photographs of the beach hanging on the walls. The kitchen was open to the living space and it offered white-painted cabinets, granite countertops the color of sand, and clean white appliances.
When Rand the tow truck driver dropped me off last night , I trudged into the house with my bags and dropped them by the front door. After standing on the deck outside, staring up at the starlit sky, I tried to make friends with Salty. That didn’t go as planned, so I found the guest bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
The next thing I knew , the sun was rising up above the ocean and making the blue waves glimmer like diamonds in a glass case. The second I sat up in bed, I noticed the scowling from the bedroom door.
“What are you looking at?” I asked the white cat.
He swished his tail and sauntered away after giving me an angry hiss.
Still wearing the shorts and T-shirt I wore driving in last night, I padded out to the kitchen to get the demon cat some food. Maybe once he realized I was here to take care of him, he would get some manners.
I poured some kitty chow into his bowl and s et it on the floor. Then I gave him fresh water and set it beside the food and called out to him. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”
Seconds later , he sauntered across the tile. “Your breakfast is served,” I told him.
He reared back and swiped at me, scratching my leg. “Ow!” I yelled. “Bad kitty!”
He ignored me. I picked up my cell and punched in Claire’s number.
“What?” she growled sleepily into the phone.
“Why aren’t you up for work?”
“I’m off today.”
“This cat is a demon. It hates me.”
“Salty?” she asked.
“Please tell me there is only one cat in this house.”
She yawned loudly. “Just one. Salty hates everyone but Aunt Ruth.”
“And you didn’t think that would be good to mention?”
“He’s a little cat. How much trouble could he possibly be?”
“I’m bleeding , Claire,” I said, deadpan.
“Get a Band-Aid.” She yawned again.
“My car broke down on the side of the road last night.”
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“I didn’t wreck it,” I said. “I had to have it towed.”
“Ruth’s car is there, isn’t it? My dad drove her up here.”
“Yeah , it’s in the driveway.”
“Keys should be in the kitchen . You can use her car when you need to,” Claire replied.
“Thanks. I don’t plan on going anywhere except out for groceries.”
“Call me if the cat kills you.”
“If it kills me , I won’t be able to use the phone,” I said, exasperated.
She laughed and then the line went dead.
The cat was still eating, and I made a wide arc around him, then went toward the windows and looked out at the gorgeous, sun-drenched view. Man, the beach was stunning. There was this instant feeling of peace that washed over me every
Salty = a furry demon.
Even though the cat may or may not have been the spawn of Satan himself, the view from the windows was more than worth the danger. The house was small, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, the rest of the house being made up of an eat-in kitchen with a wooden table and a living room with tons of windows. Every room in the house had a view of the ocean (except for one of the bathrooms).
The windows spanned the length of the back of the house, offering panoramic views of the surf meeting the sand. Beyond the windows , the house sported a large, weathered wooden deck filled with lounge chairs for taking in the view. Stretching off the deck was a set of wooden stairs and a wooden path that led directly onto the sand. Between the house and the beach was a sand dune littered with seashells, tall grasses, and piles of sand.
Though small, the house was nice, with wicker furniture and soft linen cushions, light-painted walls, and a brightly patterned round ottoman as the coffee table. There was a small TV against the wall, sitting on a rustic-looking console table and photographs of the beach hanging on the walls. The kitchen was open to the living space and it offered white-painted cabinets, granite countertops the color of sand, and clean white appliances.
When Rand the tow truck driver dropped me off last night , I trudged into the house with my bags and dropped them by the front door. After standing on the deck outside, staring up at the starlit sky, I tried to make friends with Salty. That didn’t go as planned, so I found the guest bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
The next thing I knew , the sun was rising up above the ocean and making the blue waves glimmer like diamonds in a glass case. The second I sat up in bed, I noticed the scowling from the bedroom door.
“What are you looking at?” I asked the white cat.
He swished his tail and sauntered away after giving me an angry hiss.
Still wearing the shorts and T-shirt I wore driving in last night, I padded out to the kitchen to get the demon cat some food. Maybe once he realized I was here to take care of him, he would get some manners.
I poured some kitty chow into his bowl and s et it on the floor. Then I gave him fresh water and set it beside the food and called out to him. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”
Seconds later , he sauntered across the tile. “Your breakfast is served,” I told him.
He reared back and swiped at me, scratching my leg. “Ow!” I yelled. “Bad kitty!”
He ignored me. I picked up my cell and punched in Claire’s number.
“What?” she growled sleepily into the phone.
“Why aren’t you up for work?”
“I’m off today.”
“This cat is a demon. It hates me.”
“Salty?” she asked.
“Please tell me there is only one cat in this house.”
She yawned loudly. “Just one. Salty hates everyone but Aunt Ruth.”
“And you didn’t think that would be good to mention?”
“He’s a little cat. How much trouble could he possibly be?”
“I’m bleeding , Claire,” I said, deadpan.
“Get a Band-Aid.” She yawned again.
“My car broke down on the side of the road last night.”
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“I didn’t wreck it,” I said. “I had to have it towed.”
“Ruth’s car is there, isn’t it? My dad drove her up here.”
“Yeah , it’s in the driveway.”
“Keys should be in the kitchen . You can use her car when you need to,” Claire replied.
“Thanks. I don’t plan on going anywhere except out for groceries.”
“Call me if the cat kills you.”
“If it kills me , I won’t be able to use the phone,” I said, exasperated.
She laughed and then the line went dead.
The cat was still eating, and I made a wide arc around him, then went toward the windows and looked out at the gorgeous, sun-drenched view. Man, the beach was stunning. There was this instant feeling of peace that washed over me every
Similar Books
