Ten Things My Cat Hates About You. Lottie Lucas
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cats could roll their eyes, I’m certain he’d be doing so right now.
“And then, of course,” the receptionist trills, triumph colouring her voice, “the final straw was when he bit poor Stacey. She was traumatised.”
I wince. That was pretty bad. Who knew a tiny nip from a cat could produce so much blood?
“He sensed that she was nervous, that’s all,” I reply quickly, with a mollifying smile. “Inexperienced. Perhaps he took advantage a little, I’ll admit. I’m sure it happens all the time.”
She looks at me sourly. “It doesn’t.”
I feel my face fall. Wow, she’s a tough nut. I thought it would be easier than this.
“We had to sign her off with stress, you know,” she’s saying now. “It was weeks before she felt up to facing another patient on her own.”
I sense that I’m getting nowhere with this line of attack. She looks completely and utterly unmoved. If anything, she actually looks even stonier than she did when we first came in. So, flinging my pride out of the way, I resort to the only tactic still available to me: shameless pleading.
“Look …” I put Casper down on the floor, where he immediately starts terrorising a Jack Russell sitting under the nearest chair. Placing both hands flat on the counter, I look her straight in the eye. “I understand why you don’t want him in here, I do. But I haven’t had time to find him another vet just yet, and now he’s injured. I don’t know where else to take him. So will you please just see him once more? Then I promise you solemnly that I will take him far away from here, find another surgery, and we will never darken your door again.”
For the briefest of moments she looks on the verge of relenting. Then the Jack Russell whimpers from beneath the seat, cowering away from Casper. She purses her lips, and I know that I’ve lost her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Swift,” she declares, not looking particularly sorry at all. “But it’s just not possible.”
A cold sensation lodges itself in the pit of my stomach as I take in her words. What am I going to do? This was my one and only plan. I look down at Casper. He’s lying on his side, panting heavily. I’m willing myself to calm down, but it’s not working.
Then, from the doorway through to the surgery, an unfamiliar voice speaks. “I’ll take a look at him.”
“Thank you so much for agreeing to see him,” I blurt out for what must be the third time in as many minutes.
I’m kicking myself before the words are even out of my mouth. Way to sound like a complete cretin, Clara.
“You’re most welcome,” he replies, also for what must be the third time in as many minutes. Amazingly, though, there’s no hint of sarcasm or impatience in his tone. Instead, he just smiles at me, before returning his attention to Casper.
The thing is, the new vet is decidedly not what I was expecting. It’s sort of thrown me off balance. For one thing, he’s quite a lot younger than most of the partners here.
He’s quite a lot more attractive too. Just … you know, as an observation.
Not, of course, that I’m in any state to be noticing that sort of thing. After all, my mind is consumed with anxiety over the welfare of my precious cat. I haven’t got the energy left to pay much notice to … I don’t know … say, those warm green eyes or those high, slanting cheekbones or that burnished brown hair falling over his forehead as he leans over Casper …
Who, incidentally, is behaving most … well, most unlike Casper, for want of a better phrase. That’s the biggest shock of all; to be honest, I think I’m still getting my head around it. My cat, sitting quite tamely on the vet’s table. He’s even allowing himself to be touched without the slightest peep of complaint.
It’s like a dream. A very sad, pet owner’s dream, granted, but a dream nonetheless.
“He likes you,” I say faintly, watching in astonishment as this superhuman being of a vet manages to turn Casper over slightly so he can examine his side, and all without losing a finger in the process.
It’s more than a dream. It’s a miracle. It’s like I’ve fallen into a parallel universe and everything is the wrong way around. A place where vets are fantastically good-looking and my cat is a model pet.
“I’d like to think I have a vague rapport with animals,” he says neutrally. “This would be something of a difficult career path if I didn’t, don’t you think?”
For a moment, I think I detect the slightest hint of a smile in his voice. But then he carries on with his inspection without further comment, and I decide that I must have imagined it.
“Yes, but Casper’s a bit … different,” I say cautiously, suddenly aware that I should be careful what I’m saying. The last thing I need is for him to realise that he’s unwittingly taken on the scourge of vets everywhere, the terror of the waiting room. Thank God he’s new and that Casper’s reputation, for once, doesn’t seem to have preceded him. “He’s not usually that keen on vets,” I finish, tactfully. There. Not exactly a lie, but not the whole scale-kicking, blood-drawing truth either.
He’s been waiting patiently whilst I stumbled through that explanation. Now, however, he arches an eyebrow. “I know. I’ve read his file.”
I choke on air. He’s what?
“Or rather, I should say, files,” he amends thoughtfully, as though there’s been no interruption. “There were quite a few, you know. They’ve provided me with an entertaining read on several coffee breaks.”
With an effort, I recover my voice, although it comes out as a discordant croak. “And you still agreed to see him?”
“Are you kidding?” He laughs, and the rich sound ripples right through me. “He’s the most entertaining patient we have. I couldn’t wait to meet him.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I was joking earlier about the parallel universe thing, but now I’m beginning to wonder. Have I fallen and hit my head or something?
“I’m not sure that your receptionist shares that sentiment,” I say slowly. “She didn’t seem all that pleased when you let him in.”
That’s something of an understatement. She looked thoroughly livid. I dread to think what confrontation awaits him in the staff room later.
He raises one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “Susan is rarely pleased about anything. It’s sort of her modus operandi.”
Privately, I wonder if she and Jeremy would get along. Shaking off that thought, I return to the matter at hand. “Nonetheless, I hope I haven’t got you into trouble.”
His lips quirk up at the corners. “Fear not, Miss Swift. It was worth it.”
I blush, inwardly cursing myself as I do so. Just because someone happens to be charming doesn’t mean I have to turn into a simpering idiot. He’s probably equally as engaging with everyone who comes in here, whether they’re a twenty-something blonde or an eighty-something purple rinse.
For all I know, he could be a serial seducer. He probably uses his position to lure in tender-hearted females, worming his way into their affections with his charismatic banter whilst he runs his hands all over their …
I look down at Casper and inwardly recoil. Seriously, Clara, what is wrong with you? Has it really been that long?
Yes, a small voice in my head replies pertly. It really has. No wonder you’re losing the plot.
“Clara, please,” I say quickly, trying to conceal the fact that I feel like