58 taivan?
58 - Animals/Pets
The apartment in which Van's been living isn't the smallest Taissa's ever seen, but nor is it remotely impressive. There's admittedly a certain bohemian charm to the place; Van's utilized every square inch to suit her needs, with cabinets pulling double-duty and shelves stacked so full, they might at any moment lunge from their moorings. The art is so Van, looking at it all forms a lump in Taissa's throat, and stepping from one room to the next is a seamless affair.
Not big, this place, but it's right, somehow. Right for one adult human, and no more. Van has clearly drawn boundaries around her life, a barrier in keep-out tape. No partner. No kids. No pets.
It is surprising, therefore, when Taissa wakes to find a small ginger cat pacing the windowsill.
"Hello," she says, bending to inspect its face through the glass. "Are you lost, little buddy?"
"That's Jonesy," Van's raspy voice informs her. Tai jumps. She hadn't realized Van was already up and dressed. Her hair is damp around her shoulders. A visibly stale donut hangs from one hand.
"You have a cat?"
"The shop does," Van says, gesturing vaguely. Sprinkles divebomb her counter, and she grimaces, brushes them aside. "Couple of 'em. Jonsey, and Binx, and, oh, I forget who all else."
She's lying about that last part, Tai can tell. It's clear from the fond curl of her voice around those names--plucked straight from movies--that Van would know these cats from a mile off. She probably fed one, thinking nothing of it, and kickstarted a whole little kitty empire here in Bumfuck, Ohio.
"They like to hang out downstairs," Van goes on around what looks like a deeply-grudging bite of donut. "Kids bring treats and toys. It's like having a bunch of furry little mascots."
"I never knew you were a cat person."
Van looks her over. "I, as an ogre or an onion, have many layers," she intones. "My hair is full of secrets."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Mean Girls? Shrek? Don't you have a whole-ass child? I know you know Shrek."
Taissa shakes her head. "Does Jonesy need breakfast?"
"Nah, he's the apex predator around here. No bird is safe." Van narrows her eyes. "Do you need breakfast?"
"Yes." Taissa taps her finger against the window. Jonesy gives a muted meow, batting at her as best he can. "And so do you. Tell me you're not starting every day with old baked goods."
"Old? I picked up this box three days ago, they're perfectly salvageable."
"Diner," Taissa instructs her. "I'm buying."
Van drops the donut onto its plate. Taissa, without blinking, steps around to sweep it into the trash where it belongs.
"Fine," Van grunts. "But pick up a side of bacon. Binx is not an apex predator. Little bastard can barely walk three feet without falling off something."
"Oh," Taissa says lightly, easing past her toward the door. "So he takes after you, then?"
"Fuck off," Van laughs. It's the most authentic sound she's made yet.
Ohio does not deserve her in the least.
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actually on the topic of dogs i used to work with at the grooming place who had funny names my favorite dog i ever met there (who sadly passed away due to some ongoing health issues) was this german shepherd named Shocon. he was the sweetest boy and he loved to intentionally and repeatedly knock over the bucket of soapy water i was using to bathe him i have a video where i set it upright after he did that and he immediately knocks it over again. cheeky lil bastard. anyway we always wondered what his name meant and where it came from and everyone had developed theories about it but i finally asked his mom one day and she laughed and said it was the name he was given at the shelter he came from and it was supposed to be short for Sean Connery
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