Being a homeless kitten sucks. I was cold, hungry, and barely hanging on. But then Tuna showed up—low, growly voice, warm hands, and absolutely no clue what he was doing. I knew right away I’d hit the jackpot. Now, I’ve got a cozy home, endless food, and a human who thinks he’s in charge (adorable, really). Training him has been my greatest challenge, but I’ve done a fine job.
Everything was perfect… until he brought in Salmon. I like this one—deep, steady voice, nice safe smell, excellent chin-scratching technique, and he actually listens to me when I meow. The problem? They were never with me at the same time but seemed to always wish they were.
Seriously, how long are these two going to dance around their feelings? I may be a cat, but even I know what’s going on. If these humans don’t claim each other soon, I just might have to take matters into my own paws.
Keep reading for a sneak preview!
John took another long sip from his beer. “You’ve been chosen, son. Looks like you’re the new caretaker. This has ‘cat distribution system’ written all over it.”
Dean, still stunned, looked down at the tiny furball in his lap. It seemed utterly at home, kneading the fabric of his jeans as if it had done this a thousand times.
“I swear, this cat’s got better moves than I do,” Dean muttered. “He’s already got me wrapped around his ugly little paw.” The kitten was even dirtier than the day before, leaves and dirt were clumped on his fur, making his bright yellow eyes stand out when he looked up at Dean.
John chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about being alone in this house anymore.” The kitten gave an exaggerated yawn, stretched out, and settled in for what looked like a very long nap, completely uninterested in anything but its new domain.
“It’s disappointing that he’s going to have to stay outside, though,” Dean sighed, hands still in the air.
“What do you mean?” John asked after taking a sip of his beer.
“What do you mean, ‘What do I mean’?” Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I am allergic to cats. That’s why we never had one growing up, right?”
John grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, you were allergic. That’s the story I told you, wasn’t it?”
“You did,” Dean confirmed, then turned back to stare accusingly at his Dad. “Are you saying I’m not?”
John leaned over to whisper conspiratorially. “I totally made it up.”
“What the hell Dad.” Dean pushed John away and then looked down at the kitten finally giving in to the urge to pet him. “You know, I’ve always had some doubts. I mean, I’d never actually broken out in hives or anything… But hey, I trusted you. You told me I’d get all sneezy and itchy, so I just… well, I avoided cats.”
John let out a deep laugh, almost snorting into his beer. “Oh, come on. You weren’t allergic—I just didn’t want to deal with a cat. You were like, what? Eight? I couldn’t have you getting attached to some cat and then suddenly the thing becomes the ruler of the house. So I made up the allergy story.”
Dean stared at his father, jaw dropping slightly. “Wait, what? So I spent my whole life thinking I was allergic to cats because you didn’t want one in the house?! That’s a crap reason to lie to your oldest son.”
John’s grin widened, and he shrugged. “Hey, I was just trying to keep my own sanity. And look at you now. You’re the one with the kitten in your lap. No allergic reaction, no sneezing. Just a whole lotta cat love.”
Dean stared at the kitten, which was now happily purring and stretching out across his lap, clearly in charge of the situation. “You know, I’m going to be honest with you, Dad,” Dean said slowly, shaking his head. “I think you owe me, like, a whole lot of allergy medicine. And maybe some new furniture when this thing claws everything to shreds.”
Keep reading on Ao3 after Friday March 14
🌲Find more 2025 Pinefest previews here 🌲
Being a homeless kitten sucks. I was cold, hungry, and barely hanging on. But then Tuna showed up—low, growly voice, warm hands, and absolutely no clue what he was doing. I knew right away I’d hit the jackpot. Now, I’ve got a cozy home, endless food, and a human who thinks he’s in charge (adorable, really). Training him has been my greatest challenge, but I’ve done a fine job.
Everything was perfect… until he brought in Salmon. I like this one—deep, steady voice, nice safe smell, excellent chin-scratching technique, and he actually listens to me when I meow. The problem? They were never with me at the same time but seemed to always wish they were.
Seriously, how long are these two going to dance around their feelings? I may be a cat, but even I know what’s going on. If these humans don’t claim each other soon, I just might have to take matters into my own paws.
