Giant Solidarity G/T

Chapter VI. Rey's Desires

Crystal challenged my middle finger this time, which was a knuckle taller than her. "Ha, that, little lady I call The Bird Takedown!" I announced, victoriously. After valiant defense from Crystal, I'd managed to render her facedown, on the thick shamrock potholder we used as her gym-mat. My longest digit pressed between her shoulder blades. Almost immediately worried I was too competitive with the tiny girl, I alleviated the pressure off her back. "Sorry, too much?"

"Nah it's cool." She tapped out acceptingly and nudged my finger all the way off with her foot. "You won. Seriously, stop treating me so fragile." She raised herself to kneeling on the potholder. "It's already getting old. I'm a big girl."

I couldn't help but snort wryly at that comment. "To who, a termite?" I mumbled, forgetting how loud my voice was to the girl who slept on a mattress the size of a coaster.

"Screw you, Mile-High-Club!" she yelled but giggled. "Termites are very useful if you can domesticate them, believe me. Dumber than mice though, so they're tougher to tame." She walked to the plate of carrots, bell peppers, and broccoli I'd set up for refreshment. All the gargantuan veggies were cut short and thin as shoestrings, palatable for humans. Aggressively, Crystal devoured a carrot shred. I'd stopped vocalizing my remorse at accidentally eating her, but I remained incredulous at my new gal pal's resilience. Being swallowed must have been like a waterslide of doom. Yet she bounced back in no time.

Currently, Alma stayed in the living room. I'd brought in her own plate of carrot strips and such for the couch. Alma had also asked for the smallest hairbrush we had. Best I could find her was a travel-sized comb. Alma still needed both her hands and a lot of upper body muscle to use it though. Now, she was grooming Larry on the couch. A few inches at a time, she walked along Larry's flank, dragging the comb across his coat. Slowly, a pile of shedding fur was looking like a haystack next to her on the couch. Alma looked a little like a zookeeper, scrubbing an elephant with one of those long squeegees. Surprises just kept surfacing, the more time I spent with our wee-folk. Our pampered cat behaved like a housewife at a spa, in love with Alma. It was priceless.

I was about to refill our veggie plate when the doorknob rattled. Rey called softly for a hand. She had agreed to pick up the human-proofing supplies from the mailroom herself. After my eating error, I think she wanted to give me space to repair things with Crystal. Rey now kicked the door open, gently, four bulky boxes stacked on her forearms. One was longer than the doorway. I ran to assist, but instead, Reagan nonchalantly beckoned me out into the hall. A certain fire was in her eyes. Curious, I joined her standing outside between our place, 202 and 203.

Huffing irritably out her nostrils, Rey set the boxes down to rest her arms. Angrily, she gestured across the hall, toward the odd-numbered side. "Check it out. Prick-rez over there put-up surveillance." Reagan was right. A brand-new camera with a blinking blue light was mounted on the top-right corner of 203's doorway. It looked motion activated. "And there's a trap down there." Rey pointed to Ms. Perez's doormat. Indeed, a triangular plastic trap was open and activated there. That model was typically used for rats, roaches, reptiles, and occasionally humans.

"Ignore it," I whispered, picking up two of the packages and leading the way across our threshold. Rey flipped Perez's camera the bird before following. I pretended I didn't see it, but mentally applauded her giving the finger.

"Would you look at that?!" whispered Reagan, her lower lip jutting out, in a pouty smile. She was gazing at the couch. Larry was snoring, sprawled out against the backrest. Alma lay napping on his back fur, rising and falling with his breaths, dug into his smooth hair, like a memory foam mattress. Undoubtedly, Alma exhausted herself playing masseuse. To think, Rey and I were up all night a few times, prior to the move-in, worrying Larry would see our foster humans as prey items. We'd even toyed with the depressing thought of sending Larry to live with Reagan's brother, temporarily. Here we were though. Seeing Reagan's lip turn crimson red from the cuteness was heartwarming. I knew she was fighting every temptation to take a pic of this and post it on social media. That was against Human Relief policy during this stage of the fostering process. "Best friends, so precious," Rey cooed.