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They had discussed it for a few days, weighing the pros and cons, but in the end, Mox and Bryan had decided that adding a cat to their household was a great idea. Bryan had always seen himself as more of a dog person, but that little smush-faced furball of Malakai’s had proven otherwise.
They had looked at a few websites from shelters and rescues in the area, and were now following one of the volunteers of a privately run rescue organization over to what looked like a repurposed trailer to have a look at some of the cats that were up for adoption.
“We just got a litter of kittens dumped at our front door,” the lady who was showing them around said, going through the stack of keys jingling on her key ring, “but they’re still way too young to be adopted out. Of course, they’re not the only kittens we have, but I’m hoping that you might strike up a friendship with one or two of our adult cats. Most of them are real sweethearts.” After they had passed the double doors of the trailer, she gestured around the room: “Feel free to just look around, sit down, and play with or pet some kitties. There’s also a fenced off yard out back. And if you have any questions, just ask.”
They soon found out that cats had at least as many different personalities as people, every one of them different in temper. Some were curious and sweet, letting themselves be petted right away, others were more cautious but could be swayed with a cat wand. Some seemed to be quite weary of humans, looking at them both from above or behind pieces of furniture, cat trees and the many cat runs that criss-crossed the large room. And then there was her.
“That’s Trinket,” the woman said, sighing. “She’s a bit of a problem child.”
Mox could definitely see why. He had reached out to pet her, but had stopped the moment the large gray cat had put her ears back and started growling, her bottle-brush tail swishing back and forth.
“We rescued her from a hoarding situation ten weeks ago. All the others have been adopted, but she… well. She hisses, swipes and growls at everything. Humans, other cats, it doesn’t matter. One of our staff took her home, to see if maybe she was just stressed out from being with all these other cats, but after five days of having her ankles scratched and her fingers bitten, she gave up.”
“You don’t trust people, do you, Trinket?” Bryan had walked over to them, and was looking at the cat, who was pinning him with a glare from her green eyes. “Sensible, after what you’ve been through. Humans can be really horrible.”
As if answering him, the cat first hissed, then meowed softly.
Bryan smirked, then looked at Mox, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head a little.
“Well, why not?” Mox replied to the unspoken question. “Anyone tough enough to not be bothered by a bit of blood drawn, it’s us.”
“You want to adopt Trinket?” The woman from the shelter seemed almost flabbergasted at the idea that anyone would want to let this gray, fluffy demon into their house.
“Yes,” Bryan said with a nod, “we want to adopt her.”
Trinket had been yowling and hissing the whole car ride home, and didn’t seem to be inclined to stop even after Bryan had set down the carrier in the living room with a cheerful: “Welcome home, kitty.”
Even opening the carrier’s door had been taken as an offense, with Trinket slapping at Mox’s fingers with a sharp-clawed paw.
Now, the cat was crouched against the back wall of the carrier, ears laid flat, glowering at Mox, who was kneeling down to look into the carrier.
“Careful,” Bryan said, his tone teasing, “she might take out one of your eyes.”
“The way she’s lookin’ at me I wouldn’t put it past her. One thing’s for sure, we’re not gettin’ her outta there.” Mox stood up, dusting his hand off on his jeans: “I guess we can just, dunno, leave her some food and see if she comes out when she’s hungry.”
Bryan nodded: “Let’s give her some space. I bet she’ll come out once she smells food.”
“There was this old lady on our street,” Mox mused, following Bryan into the kitchen and watching him pick out something from what was now the cat food drawer, “she used to feed the strays living around the block. And man, those kitties came running from ten streets over when she got out the grub.” He looked at Bryan, nodding his chin in the direction of the tin he was holding: “You okay with that?”
Bryan rolled his eyes in fond exasperation: “I told you, sunshine, I’m okay with possibly getting cat food on my hands. It’s not as if I’m allergic to meat, and Trinket needs it.”
“Just asking,” Mox said, lifting his hands. “We should also put out some of the dry stuff. Maybe she likes her food crunchy.”
In the end, Trinket stayed where she was: in the cat carrier, growling every time someone came too close.
“Man, she really doesn’t like people. Would rather go hungry than be around us.” Mox sighed, rubbing his palms over his cheeks.
“Maybe tomorrow. Let’s go to bed. Give her a chance to come out there and eat.”
“Yeah.” Mox wrapped an arm around Bryan’s shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him on the cheek: “Guess I’m going to have to just pet you tonight, then.”
The first thing Mox noticed the next morning when he walked into the living room was that both of Trinket’s dishes were empty.
The second was a hiss from above him, and then his head got walloped by a clawed paw.
“Ow! What the…” Looking up, he saw Trinket looming above him on the upper platform of her cat tree, paw raised for another strike. “Good morning to you, too, you little demon,” he muttered to himself, taking a step back so he was out of her range. “Babe?” He called in the direction of the open bedroom door.
“Yes?”
“Be careful when you come into the living room. Miss Murder Mittens has left her cave and is sitting on the cat tree, and she don’t like people walking by. Gave me a head tattoo.”
He heard Bryan laugh: “Miss Murder Mittens? But thank you for the warning. I’d rather save the getting slapped for later, when we're training.”
“Smart. She packs a punch that would probably impress Regal.”
Over the next few days, they learned to keep an eye out for where their new family member was at any given time. Her favorite spots seemed to be high up in one of the cat trees or on top of the bookcases, or of course underneath the couch, from where she launched attacks on Mox and Bryan’s feet and ankles.
“You think she’ll ever stop that? I mean, at some point she’s got to realize that we don’t wanna hurt her,” Mox said, rubbing his ankle, which had just been the victim of another stealth attack.
“I think she will, yes. I mean, we’ve been giving her food and treats and things to play with. Which, yes, she ignores. At least while we’re around. Who knows what she does at night.”
Mox rubbed his chin: “You know, I just had an idea. I kinda want to know what she does when she’s on her own. If she’s like a normal cat then.”
Bryan tilted his head to the side: “Cameras?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We could get some with night vision.”
There was a short meow from underneath the couch.
“Oh, you know we’re talking about you, don’t you, Trinket?”
“She’s always listenin’,” Mox said with a chuckle. “Smart girl.”
“Let’s have a look online. See what we can get to get some insights into the secret life of Miss Murder Mittens.”
A few days later, Mox and Bryan sat down on the couch - after checking for claw traps - with a laptop on the table in front of them to check the footage from the last few nights. There had been a short debate on simply leaving them running round the clock.
“Why should we do that? We only need footage of when we’re not around.”
Mox had grinned: “Sex tapes”. Bryan shook his head and smirked at Mox: “Why should I look at a tape of something if I can just do it again?”
It turned out that once she was alone, Trinket felt perfectly at home in the house. They watched her move around from one room to the next, jump on the couch and counters, play with the toys that were strewn around the living room, and even take a nap on the bed.
“Look at that. She walks around like she owns the place the moment she’s sure we’re not there.”
“Hmmm.” Bryan furrowed his brow, stroking his beard, the gears in his head ticking away as they usually only did when planning a match. “She’s all right with us being there at night.”
“Yeah cuz she knows we stay in the bedroom. I’ve never seen her when I go get a snack at night. Means she goes running the moment the door opens.”
“So what if we leave the door open at night?”
Mox weighed his head: “I don’t know. I don’t want her staying hidden all night, too.”
“Me neither. But she might not. She’s a smart girl, she’ll notice that even when the door is open we’re not really moving around much.”
“Clever,” Mox said, nodding. “And we could try and lure her into the room with treats. Just leave ‘em on the floor. She really likes those little meat sticks.”
“It’s definitely worth a try. We’ve got to get her used to being around us somehow, after all.”
A few days later, Bryan was woken up at around 3am by Mox insistently poking his bicep. Rubbing his eyes with his hand, he pushed himself up on one elbow, frowning and mumbling grouchily: “Whassup, why you wakn me…?”
“Shh, shh, quiet!” Mox was whispering so quietly Bryan almost couldn’t hear him. “Look over there!” He nodded his chin towards the door.
Blinking to chase the fog from his eyes, Bryan looked towards where Mox had indicated: “Trinket?”
“Mhm. I woke up and there she was, eatin’ her treats.”
Indeed, the cat was sitting on the floor, smacking her jaws as she enjoyed her treats.
“Aww. You woke me up because our standoffish cat finally dared to sneak into the bedroom?” Bryan chuckled quietly, then kissed Mox’s stubbly cheek: “You’re turning into a proper cat dad. Sap.”
Mox huffed: “Says the guy who has like 50 pictures of her on his phone.”
The shadowy outline of the cat raised her head, ears pricked forward, and looked in the direction of the bed.
“Better pretend we’re sleeping,” Bryan whispered, trying to hold back a laugh. “Don’t want her catching us up at this time of night…”
“Idiot.” Bryan could pretty much hear the eye roll in Mox’s voice, but Mox settled down nonetheless.
Leaning over, Bryan gave Mox a peck on the lips: “Good night, cat dad.”
Having been able to go into the bedroom at night without being attacked seemed to have done wonders for Trinket’s trust and aggression levels. Granted, she still attacked both of them when they got too close or, God forbid, tried to pet her, but the sneak attacks from above or below had more or less ceased, which admittedly brought down both men’s stress levels.
“Waitin’ for your food, Miss Murder Mittens?” The moment Mox cracked open the can of food, Trinket appeared on the kitchen’s doorstep.
“Better hurry,” Bryan quipped, cutting his sandwich in half, “she looks about hungry enough to eat you if you take too long.”
Mox scraped the last dregs of food from the tin and put the dish down in its usual spot. As soon as he had retreated a step, Trinket slinked into the room to feast.
Mox grinned at Bryan: “The only one allowed to eat me around here is you, babe.” To underscore his words, he leaned in to kiss Bryan’s lips, letting the kiss linger.
Bryan hummed, his fingertips ghosting up Mox’s arm: “Maybe I should do that. For dessert.” Another kiss, and his eyes twinkled mischievously: “Or I could have dessert first.”
“Wouldn’t say no to that…” With a speed usually reserved for inside the ring, Mox snatched half of Bryan’s sandwich and took a hearty bite, mumbling through a mouth full of bread: “Means you don’t need this any more, right?”
“Jerk,” Bryan laughed, punching Mox on the shoulder. “Coming on to me just to steal my food. You could’ve just asked!”
“Not as much fun,” Mox answered, sauntering towards the living room.
“Hey Trinket,” Bryan said, “look, ankles! Attack!”
The cat raised her head and gave Bryan a bored look, which had Mox chuckling through another bite of sandwich.
“Traitor. No more treats for you! …today.”
“Sure,” Mox said over his shoulder: “As if you could withhold anything from her. Softie.”
Closing the door behind him, Bryan was greeted with a sight that made him blink and almost shake his head as if to see if he was fully awake.
There, on the couch watching a movie, was Jon. And right next to him, Trinket, curled up and apparently sleeping.
“I know,” Mox said, answering Bryan’s unspoken question. “She just hopped up here, curled up and went to sleep. And I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, needing to take a piss for an hour, but I don’t wanna wake her up and have her run off.”
“But I’m the soft one?” Bryan shook his head with a fond smile. “I get it. Hey, let me take a picture.”
“As if you didn’t have dozens of ‘em already,” Mox chuckled teasingly.
“Right back at you, sunshine.”
“At least I don’t post them on twitter.”
“That,” Bryan said, sitting down carefully as to not wake the sleeping lioness, “is because you don’t even know how to do it. Also, people seem to love Trinket.”
“She’s a cat. I’m not as internet savvy as others, but I know they love cats there.”
Bryan looked at Trinket, who seemed so sweet and innocent with her paw laying across her eyes: “And what’s not to love about her, after all?”
Mox snorted, but there was a playful tone to his voice: “Her claws, her teeth, her bad temper…”
“Oh, hush. That’s what makes her special.”
“Wheeler, careful, Trinket-”
With an irritated hiss, Trinket whacked her paw several times into Yuta’s hair. The young man ducked and raised his hand to protect his head, which of course only put his hand in the way of Trinket’s claw-studded paw.
“Jesus, guys, your cat is a menace!” Yuta shook his hand, then looked at it, his brow furrowed in irritation: “I didn’t expect to be bleeding without even being in the ring.”
Bryan chuckled, his arms crossed in front of his chest: “That’s why we put up that sign.”
“Beware of cat? I thought that was a joke!” Now safely out of range, Wheeler looked up at Trinket, who was sitting on the highest platform of her cat tree, staring back at Yuta. “I swear this cat is smirking.”
“Aw, don’t say that,” Mox grinned, lounging on the couch. “She’s not a bad kitty. She’s just very territorial. And a bit violent.”
“Which means she should fit right in with you lads.” Regal was wearing a mischievous smile, nodding at the three other men in greeting.
Above him, Trinket growled, raising her right paw, ready to strike at Regal’s as usual perfectly coiffed hair.
Turning his head, Regal looked at her: “And hello there, kitty. Don’t like people coming into your kingdom, do you?”
For a moment, it looked as if Trinket would lower her paw without striking, but then she gave Regal a quick whack on the head before starting to clean her paw as if nothing had happened. Regal nodded: “Not easily intimidated, is she?”
“Nah,” Mox said, sitting up. “Not any more. A few weeks ago she would’ve gone runnin’, but now she sits up there like a queen, watching everything.”
“And judging, from the look on her face,” Wheeler grumped. “It’s not enough that every human in this room does that, now the cat’s in on it, too.”
“Aww, poor baby,” Mox chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Yuta’s hair.
“That’s how it works, dear,” Regal said, his smile sharp around the edges like a shark’s. “How else could you reach your full potential?”
Trinket, who had made her way down the cat tree, sauntered over to where the men were sitting and hopped up onto the armrest of the couch, which had become her favorite spot to hunker down into a cat loaf and doze while her humans watched TV.
“Ya should be glad that we don’t bring her to whack you into shape” Mox said, pulling Yuta into a friendly headlock.
Regal clapped his hands, rubbing them together: “Enough silly chit chat, boys. Let’s talk strategy for our next match.”
“Easy,” Bryan said with a wide grin, “we just throw Miss Murder Mittens at them.”
That earned him some choked laughter from Wheeler and a pointed finger and raised brows from Regal: “What did I just say, boy?”
Bryan winced: “Sorry, your Lordship…”
“Oh, you will be after our training session tomorrow.”
“Jon. Come look at this.”
Bryan’s voice sounded almost giddy with excitement, and he rarely got like that when it wasn’t about whose head he might kick in next.
Mox stepped into the bedroom, where Bryan was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with Trinket sitting in front of him, her ears pricked forward and looking at her human expectantly.
“Trinket, give me five!”
Bryan held out his hand, palm turned upwards, and to Mox’’s amazement, the cat tapped Bryan’s palm with her paw.
“Shit. How’d you do that?”
“Clicker training,” Bryan said, grinning. “I read about it on the internet, and thought that it might work with her. And it did.” Here, Bryan’s grin turned into his trademark smug smile. “Quite well, too. She’s smart, our fur baby.”
Mox laughed, shaking his head at Bryan: “Did you really just call our violent little monster cat your fur baby?”
Bryan at least had the decency to look embarrassed at the slip-up, a light flush creeping over his cheekbones: “I swear, if you tell anyone…”
Another laugh, and Mox sat down next to his partner, gently pulling his head over so he could kiss Bryan’s temple: “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Anyway,” Bryan went on, obviously trying to put his crazy cat lady moment behind him, “you try it. I want to see if she does it with other people, too.”
“Okay.” Holding out his hand the way he had seen Bryan do it, Mox told Trinket: “Gimme five, kitty.” Apparently, Bryan hadn’t taught Trinket the part where she kept her claws sheathed yet, so the tap of her paw came with the slight prick of pain that often accompanied Trinket touching them, but still, Mox reached out to scritch the cat’s head lovingly: “Good girl. Who says you can’t teach cats to do tricks.” Then, he gave Bryan a sly smile: “You know, I have an idea. People gonna love this.”
“Do tell,” Bryan said, petting Trinket’s back in long strokes and getting a few soft purrs in return.
“Next time Regal is over, we’re gonna have him do that trick with Miss Murder Mittens. Snap a picture, put it on your twitter thing.” He chuckled: “Newest member of the Blackpool Combat Club.”
“You know there’s a fifty-fifty chance between him laughing his ass off and us getting murdered in a slow, painful way, right?”
“Yeah. Worth it, though, dontcha think?”
“Oh, absolutely. Besides, we haven’t inducted a new member since Yuta. It’s high time we expanded our stable.”
It looked like Mox was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t even notice Bryan enter the room. Which was a good thing, since otherwise Bryan would have missed one of the most precious things he had ever seen in his life: Mox, sitting on the floor and rubbing Trinket’s belly while she playfully attacked his hand, treating the cat to a crooning rendition of “Wild Thing”.
Bryan waited a few more seconds, then announced his return with a short “hello, you two.”
Having been interrupted in his serenading, Mox turned his head and smiled: “Hey.”
Trinket ceased her gnawing on Mox’s hand, too, and twisted around so she could look at Bryan, acknowledging him with a short meow.
Gracefully settling down on the floor beside Jon and Trinket, Bryan gave the man a loving kiss and the cat some scritches underneath her jaw: “You two are terrifyingly adorable, did you know that?” Then, he winked at Jon: “Though your singing voice could use some work.”
“Years of smoking, babe,” Jon chuckled, placing a kiss on Bryan’s cheekbone.
Sensing that she was no longer the center of attention, Trinket decided that this was a development that could only be reversed by swatting her claws at Bryan’s bare arm.
“Hey!” Bryan laughed: “Stop it, you jealous little diva. You had his attention the whole morning.”
Changing tactics, Trinket rolled onto her back, which immediately had Bryan rubbing her belly lovingly.
“Can’t believe that a few months ago, that kitty was hiding under the furniture and attacking our feet,” Mox said, shaking his head. “And now she’s always there to cuddle and be petted.”
“She still bites and claws, though.”
“Yeah, well, some of us have violence in their bones,” Mox said, shrugging one shoulder. Then, he grinned: “If anyone should know that it’s us.”
Bryan placed a soft kiss on Mox’s lips, then went back to tickling Trinket’s fur: “Yes. I’m glad we adopted her. She’s the perfect cat for us, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.” Mox looked from Trinket back to his partner: “A family of wild things, that’s what we are.”