Alternatively

Cursed

Animals liked him.

They always had, from the back alley garbage cats to the seals that followed him at the aquarium. It was okay, because he liked animals just as well. Once, when he was nine or ten years old, he lured a scrappy dog back home with pieces of his lunch and cried when his mom insisted they take him to the shelter.

"We don't have enough room for a dog," she had tried explaining, wincing when he just blubbered into the dog's mangy fur.

So she let him skip the next school day to walk the dog around Central Park and give him, "the best day ever" before turning him in to "dog jail". That weekend, she took him to pick out his first fish.

Even though the process took an hour because he just couldn't decide which was his favorite.

The point was, he had a soft spot for animals, which explained why he had laid flat on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, cooing at the grimy cat stuck in the storm drain.

"Come on," he had clucked, straining his arm towards the hissing creature. "I know, scary dude, but I can help. Come on, baby."

The cat had tried swiping it's claws, range of motion limited.

"Shh, shh, I know," he tried soothing, grimacing when street water splashed into his face. "It's cold, you're hurt, I can help."

It spat when his hand crept closer, eyes flashing as it looked wildly around. Rocks were stabbing his stomach through his shirt and people were passing by with annoyed tch-'s, but he kept stretching at the slow pace he began. He had no idea how he even heard the pitiful cry over the crashing thunder, how he even though to glance down to see the cat helplessly stuck in metal and concrete as water rushed around.

The cat had tried biting his hand as he finally reached out to grab it by the scruff of it's neck, wriggling as he fought to pull it free.

"I'm not even a cat person," he had growled, wedging his other hand between the thrashing cat and the storm drain. "So I better not get a disease because of you."

It put up a valiant fight, but he managed to yank it into the open, wincing as something popped sickeningly. Percy immediately sat up to keep it at arms length, panicking because he couldn't just let it tear off into the night, not with it breathing that hard and it's leg dangling like that. Water streaked down his face and he flipped his soaked hair from his eyes, trying to turn the animal to get a better look.

It gave him the nastiest look, a constant growl vibrating through it's tiny frame.

"I'm taking you to the vet," he had told it, grip tightening as it wriggled again. "You're going to the vet."

So he swaddled it in his jacket and held it to his chest best he could, which made nonchalantly lounging on the bus a little harder. Thankfully, it was practically law not to look at the crazy dude on public transportation, even if said crazy dude was drenched head to toe in New York Street Soup and holding a hissing tumor.

"Well," the vet told him three hours later with a sunny smile. "She's a little dehydrated, despite being so water logged, and her back leg is broken, but she should recover in no time if you make sure-"

"It's not mine," he glanced back to where the cat had been taken.

The sunny smile had dimmed. "A stray?"

He was wondering if it managed to maim any of the nurses.

"She isn't chipped, so she'll need to be put in the shelter system, but you still would have to cover the cost of her operation."