Catland - a humorous fantasy

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Last One

When Leanne returned from Belize, sporting her new tan and carrying four exquisitely thoughtful and utterly useless gifts, she couldn't believe what she found. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for it. She was aghast; she was agog; her mind reeled, and boggled, and did all those things bewildered minds do. She set down her bags and gazed unbelievingly around her. For one very uncharacteristic moment, Leanne was absolutely speechless.

Greg's house was furnished. Really, truly furnished. It had rugs and chairs and lamps and curtains all those things normal adults have. Some of it Leanne recognized as having been picked out by Sarah—all that stuff that Greg had been too heartbroken to look at and too guilt-stricken to part with, which had languished expensively in storage for the past three years. Other things were new—apparently Greg's own choices—and these things were surprisingly tasteful, and blended with the old stuff surprisingly well. The effect was natural and harmonious, as if the place had always been this way, and Leanne realized, with a stab at her heart that made her eyes water, that where Greg had once merely a house, he now had a home.

And that still didn't surprise her as much as the cats.

One of the cats she recognized; it was that horrible scarred one that Greg had been perverse enough to insist on choosing. She had to admit that the horrible scarred cat was looking much better—still horrible and scarred, maybe, but fatter and healthier, and with a contented look on its face. Perhaps that had something to do with the cat's new companion: a beautiful female with a starburst of streaking colors arrayed across its face. And perhaps it had something to do, also, with the visibly swollen belly the female cat was proudly waddling around with. Leanne was really stunned by this development. Was it possible that the shelter where they'd picked up the horrible cat hadn't neutered him? She would have to complain to their board of directors. She could probably get the whole place shut down.

All these thoughts evaporated, however, when she caught sight of Greg. He was sitting on his couch, petting yet another cat—a big fat striped orange one with a white belly—and the cat was purring contentedly, and Greg looked ... happy. There was no other word for it. He looked happy. Standing in the doorway, with the still-open door behind her, Leanne realized that she was weeping, and she couldn't have told you why.

There were other cats around Greg too, chasing each other across the floor and stalking across the windowsills and lazing around in sunbeams, all seeming relaxed and perfectly at home. There was a huge, muscular gray cat stretched on the floor, languidly licking himself, and a fairly big orange one who was batting at a toy mouse, and a little brown one stalking the orange cat's tail, and a tabby watching the proceedings with keen and benevolent eyes. One cat was actually uglier than Greg's original selection, with a mottled coat and a grotesquely open white eye—but even this fearsome specimen seemed to be enjoying himself, as he ruthlessly disemboweled a pillow, purring in ecstasy as he did. The place was a veritable chaos of contentment. It would have been laughable if it hadn't been so sweet.

Greg looked up at Leanne and smiled. "Welcome back," he said. "Sorry I can't get up. Byron gets very testy if you cut short his cuddles." And the big cat purred loudly, as if in confirmation.

Leanne took a few steps into the room and looked about her dubiously. "Are these all ... yours?" she asked.

Greg laughed. "No, no, no. Actually, none of them are mine. They come and go as they please, basically. Milly spends a lot of time here lately, because it's a low-stress place, and she's due in a few weeks. Leo—that's the black one you made me get at the shelter—visits whenever he can, but he has ... other responsibilities. You know how it is with cats." He shrugged good-naturedly. "Always up to something."

This was far too much information for Leanne to process all at one go. Had Greg's house become a kind of ... cat hotel? Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Had he completely lost his mind? She decided to put the most important of these question first.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" she asked.

Greg laughed again and got to his feet, setting the cat he'd been stroking down on the arm of the couch. "Sorry, Byron," he said, addressing the cat. "I'll get back to you in a minute, okay?" The cat yowled indignantly and stalked away in a huff.

Greg walked over and put his hands on Leanne's shoulders. "I haven't lost my mind," he said. "I promise. I know this probably looks a little nutty, but I assure you, everything's fine. Everything's better than fine, actually. And I have you to thank for all of it."

With that, Greg put his arms around his sister and hugged her, and Leanne, not knowing what else to do, hugged him back. She was weeping again, she realized, but she didn't mind all that much. She didn't know what she had done to bring Greg back to himself again, but she was very, very glad to have her brother back. Very, very, very glad.

A tear landed on Leanne's shoulder, and she realized that Greg was weeping too. She hugged him harder, and he began to sob, which made Leanne sob also, and they stood there sobbing for a good five minutes, getting tears and snot all over each other's clothing. At last, they separated, laughing self-consciously, and then Greg went into the kitchen and fried up some steaks, which were delicious, and they stayed up late that night talking, and things were very nice indeed.