~~~~~*~~~~~

Justin let out a low whistle as he lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. “Quite a place you've got here,” he said, meeting my eyes in a sideways glance.

“It's bigger than you'd think,” I said. “People arrive expecting us to have a few cat pens out the back and are always surprised when they see how many cats we have on site.”

“How many have you got?”

“A little under two-hundred,”I said, glancing at a few small, furry faces who were already competing for Justin's attention. I swear the cats perform whenever a visitor arrives, twirling and calling and preening on their shelves, catching the people's eyes and holding their gaze until they were helpless to avoid going over and poking a finger through the netting to say hello. Justin hadn't noticed the effect he was having on our feline guests. So far he was too busy looking surprised.

“Two-hundred?”

I chuckled. It wasn't the first time I'd heard that.

"We're the largest re-homing cattery in the area,” I said, running through the old spiel. I had this speech memorized in my mind, and had run through it a thousand times before, but of course I had to make it seem as though it wasn't rehearsed. I was pretty good at this part of the job, but I sucked at the hard sell. I put this down to the fact that I'd quite happily have the cats stay at the cattery than be re-homed. I knew I gave them the utmost care and love, and that they led happy little lives despite not being in a home environment.

“But still, two-hundred,” Justin repeated, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. I met his gaze and smiled into his lovely blue eyes.

“See to me that sounds nothing, but I guess it is a lot really.”

“Yeah it's a lot!”

His eyes left mine to glance around as I casually led us towards the re-homing blocks. On both sides of the path were faces eagerly watching us, and I smiled as a few familiar characters started vying for my attention. All the cats knew I carried edible treats in my jeans pockets and that when the coast was clear they'd get one if the timing was right. They were probably wondering what was taking so long.

“And you know them all?” Justin asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded. “On my first day here they all looked alike,” I said. “Like, literally, they all looked the same. Then I got to know their differences, their markings... face shape... eye colour. Now I can easily tell them apart, even the new ones.”

I heard him chuckle, and when I glanced over he was waving at a pure white female who was calling to him in a loud, whiny voice. I could tell by the softening around his eyes and the crooked smile that appeared on his lips that he was an animal lover. And yes, I know you're thinking that's obvious as he was there to adopt a cat, but believe me, the two do not automatically go together.

“That's Star,” I said, gesturing at the cat who had jumped down from her shelf and was rubbing her side against the netting. “She's one of our mommies.”

“Mommies?” Justin repeated, glancing at me in confusion.

“She came to us heavily pregnant. She was found wandering the streets looking for somewhere safe to give birth.” I tried to keep the judgement out of my voice and avoided telling Justin the suspected truth about Star – that she was owned by someone who'd abandoned her when she'd gotten pregnant. Unfortunately, it happened a lot.

“She looked like she'd swallowed a football when she arrived,” I recollected and Justin chuckled at the image. Star continued to chirp and bat her eyes at him, flirting her way into his heart as only a cat can do upon meeting a stranger. “The next day she had six perfect little kittens, so it was lucky we found her when we did.”

“Six kittens?” Justin asked, his eyes not leaving the little cat's slim body. “Is that normal?”

“Six is unusual,” I said, “but we've had more. Thirteen, once.”

“Thirteen?!”

I chuckled at his surprise. “Yup, thirteen. And she had them all naturally. There's none of that too-posh-to-push business around here. Plus, we got to name all the kittens, which was fun. We're hoping one day to get a litter of seven. We've got so many names for seven kittens...”

“Like what?” Justin asked, eyeing me with a smirk. I'd overlooked the fact that to most people, naming a litter of kittens in themes was unusual, but that's exactly what we did at the cattery. We'd had many varieties over the years; alcoholic beverages, super-heroes, cereal brands, sports teams, colours, makes of car. The list was endless.

“Days of the week... seven dwarfs...”

“Deadly sins?” Justin offered with a laugh and I pretended to be offended and playfully narrowed my eyes at him.

“That's mean!”

“But naming a kitten Grumpy isn't?”

I chuckled and dipped my head to the side, allowing him that one. He had a point.

“The owners usually change the names when they adopt them anyway,” I explained. “It's just a bit of fun for us while we're looking after them. It helps to remember them by, too. I can't tell you how many Luckys and Rosies and Fluffys we get. But we've only ever had one Bulbasaur...”

Justin let out a snort and gave me a look that said he wasn't buying it for a second. “Bulbasaur?” he repeated incredulously. “That's gotta be a joke, right?”

I giggled at his expression and shrugged my shoulders. “They were the first litter out the door,” I said proudly. “Never underestimate the power of a good name. Especially when it's down to the children to choose the newest addition to the family. You have to play to the kids... and the dads.”

Justin's brow cleared and I could tell he was bemused by the idea. Something told me whoever he decided to adopt would be given a carefully considered, most likely boring, name. He had all the indications of a Lucky, Rosie or Fluffy owner.

I could feel my anxiety dissipating as I led him towards the first of the three homing blocks. Whatever awkwardness he'd felt in reception seemed to have passed, and he seemed chatty and eager to hear more about the cattery and its inhabitants. It was a welcome change; usually the visitors were so excited at the prospect of meeting the cats that they barely gave me their attention. It was hard to reel back the conversation to give them the information they needed to choose their new pet when they were squealing at each pair of pointy ears they saw.

“This is our first homing block,” I said as we rounded the corner and I reached out to push open the double doors. “All the cats in here are available to be adopted. Any with 'booked' across their forms have already been reserved.”

Justin's eyes met mine and he silently reached out to push the doors open wider, refusing my gesture for him to enter the building first. I smiled shyly and ducked under his arm, slightly flustered by the gentlemanly gesture.

“What do you mean reserved?” he asked as the doors closed shut behind us.

“You need a home-visit before you can adopt a cat from us,” I said. “But you can reserve someone for up to seven days beforehand if there's one that catches your eye.”

Justin nodded and his eyes strayed along the line of cat pens adjacent to each wall that ran all the way along the building. There were thirty pens in this building alone, all containing a feline occupant waiting to be adopted. This was usually the moment when the more emotional visitors burst into tears, but I suspected Justin wouldn't have this reaction. A quarter suspected, three quarters hoped.

Of all the parts of my job, this was the moment that made me smile the most. The minute the main doors were opened it was almost as if the cats knew it was time for business, and the majority of them came to the front of their cabins to perform for the visitors. Today was no exception.

Justin turned and grinned at me as he went to stand in front of the first cabin on the right. Inside, the large ginger tom who'd been asleep in his blue plastic bed yawned, stretched and reluctantly came over to greet him.

“I feel like I'm disturbing them,” Justin said sheepishly, which made me laugh. I joined his side and wiggled my fingers at the cat, Bobby, in a polite hello. His yellow eyes met mine and he stared, obviously waiting for something; a stroke, a chance to get out of his pen, a second breakfast. What was clear to me, although I had no intention of telling Justin, was that he wasn't that impressed with this visitor. There were no attempts to get his attention or to show off in any way. I could always tell when a cat wanted to be adopted, and Bobby certainly wasn't giving out any of those signals.

“They all have an individual door form,” I said as I pointed to the laminated sheet of information in the clear perspex holder beside Bobby's pen. “It has their age and a little of their background – if we know any - and also states whether they could live with other cats, dogs or children...”

I felt my cheeks colouring at the word, and I resisted the urge to meet Justin's eyes. I had to remind myself that this was about getting a cat a home, not getting myself a boyfriend. It shouldn't matter whether he was married with kids, although I had to admit a very small part of me had begin to hope that he might be single.

“So the cats you don't have information on--”

“Were usually strays. We do our best to assess all the cats while they're with us, but we can obviously never really tell how they'll behave in a home environment. If we're not sure, we usually suggest they go to an adult home rather than one with young children, and somewhere where there aren't other animals.”

Justin nodded, his face giving absolutely nothing away and I tried not to study his expression for clues as he took a step away from Bobby's pen to look in the one next door. Seeing his attention divert to the cats, I sucked in a breath to finish my speech. It was time for the finish and escape, as I called it. No doubt when I returned to reception I'd be quizzed for information about him, but to be honest I didn't have much to say. He was nice, he obviously liked the cats, but although I knew I should have asked more about his lifestyle and home environment, I couldn't form the words without them sounding like I was fishing for information. The wrong kind of information.

“If there's anything you'd like to know about any of the cats, the reception staff will be able to get out the files for you. The only thing we ask while you're looking around is that you find a member of staff before you open any of the cabin doors, just in case. The staff all wear these blue sweatshirts,” I finished, tugging on the hem of mine.

Justin's head jerked up and he looked directly at me. “You're leaving?”

My cheeks coloured again. “To give you a chance to look around...” I muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"I thought I was getting the tour,” he teased, smirking at me with a crooked grin.

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. “Well...”

“Come on,” he encouraged, “I need the inside scoop on these guys or how else am I gonna choose one?”

I glanced at the many pairs of eyes watching me curiously from inside the cabins and then back at Justin and his similarly eager expression. It was hard to say no to, and as my shoulders sank slightly in resignation I realised I was a lost cause.

“Unless you've got somewhere else to be..?” Justin suggested, misreading my hesitation. “I don't want to hold you up from your work.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I haven't got anywhere else to be.”

He grinned and turned back to the cabins. “Great. So tell me, who's this little guy?”

~~~~~*~~~~~