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The trip to Far Far Away was going smoothly. Puss knew it would take at least two to three days, so on this first day he decided to find himself the most comfortable space to relax while also getting the most sun. He’d managed to find himself comfortable on the bowsprit of the ship, curled up and purring on the wood. The crashing of the waves on the hull was like a piece of distant music, so sweet and soft as he let the sun bathe him in its rays of warmth.
One thing he could give Mama Luna was that, despite her insanity, living at her house had given him a good picture of how normal– other cats relaxed. Puss hummed to himself, stretching out of his curled position to get to a higher place on the bowsprit. He loved to feel the wind in his fur, to hear it whistle in his ears.
He padded up the bowsprit, letting the wind push against his fur. It felt like a gentle hand, pushing at his cheek like his mamá used to. He found his way to the peak of the bowsprit, stretching down and letting his muzzle part in a large yawn.
He let go of his stretch and rose back up, meeting the welcoming push of the wind again. It carded it's fingers through his fur, danced between his whiskers, whistled in his ears.
The wind whistled in his ears.
The wind whistled.
Whistle.
Puss’s heart began to race, his hackles raised, his sight narrowed to a tunnel. He froze as he felt that presence behind him, looming just far enough away that he thought he could run but was never truly sure.
He turned around slowly, careful not to appear as enticing prey, trying to catch a glimpse of Lobo's silhouette.
...
Nothing.
The deck was clear.
He let out a sigh of relief.
A gust of wind hit his back, humid and thick, and it whistled in his ears.
Except it wasn't wind.
It couldn't be wind.
It was Lobo's breath, it was Muerte's whistle, it was telling him to–
Run.
Suddenly he was tearing down the bowsprit, unable to keep his claws from extending as he ran from the coming danger, spurred on by the terror filling his entire being. He scrambled as quickly as possible, kicking off his boots so he could desperately hope to gain any speed on four legs. His bid was in pitiable vain, as he caught one of his claws in the sturdy wood of the ship in his panic.
Faster, run faster.
He tore his paw from the bowsprit, pulling his claw right out of the socket. Pain ricocheted through Puss, choking him. He felt as if his head was stuffed full of terror and cotton, like his legs weren’t his own and somebody else was darting past Kitty and Perrito in a mad display of hysteria.
He slammed into the door to the captain’s cabin as Kitty called after him.
Corre, corre, gatito, is all Puss heard.
He scratched at the wood frantically until the door creaked open. He couldn’t even look back at his companions as he scurried inside the dark room, entire body screaming to run, run, run, corre, corre, corre.
Puss’s heart was beating in his throat as he passed cabinets and globes, the deep shadows all the more terrifying when he could hear that wheezing laugh behind him. Up, onto the table, papers left scattering in his wake, deep claw marks in the map that lay under him. Where could he hide? Where couldn’t he be found?
As soon as Puss spotted the giant chest, he was leaping off the table and scrambling for the lock, attempting to stab his claws into it like it was a living creature. His front toe screamed at him as he tried to use a claw that was torn out, his blood slicking the surface of the lock.
Footsteps–
With a strength he didn’t know he had, Puss snapped the lock from the chest and scrambled inside, letting the heavy lid slam! shut almost on his tail. He buried himself in the clothes kept inside, squeezing his eyes shut as nausea overtook him, his gut rolling in panic.
“Puss?” he couldn’t really hear Perrito, not through the chest, past his rushing heart. “Puss, where’d you go?”
He tensed, pulling back into the dark confines of his hiding place. The air felt hot and thick, somehow impossible to breathe despite how much he gasped. Something in him knew, just knew, he was going to die. Not this early, is all he could plead, I haven’t done anything yet.
And yet Death closed in, surely. Surely, el Lobo was the only one who could cause this dizzying, unsurmountable fear that welled up in him, fit itself into every nook of his insides, and laughed at his panicked breaths. Breaths of unbreathable air, breaths of nothing and everything, of panic, and fear, and–
The chest opened and Puss fell like a stone, curling himself as tight as possible, trying to hide from the jaws that would soon rend him in two.
“Puss?” Perrito called again as if he couldn’t see the giant predator that Puss could picture in his mind, couldn’t feel the way its hot breaths made the air unbreathable and made his skin colder than it ever had been at the same time. He felt like he was drowning in himself as his heart tried to beat faster than possible, faster than it ever should.
He could feel something go to grab him and he swiped at it, brandishing his claws. Four out of five, the toe missing its protection screaming at him using stinging pain. He could hear Kitty gasp, and a feeling he could never find the words to describe properly squeezed him so tight he was sure he would pop. It was like sinking and drowning and grief and anger and loss—every feeling he’d ever hated feeling was thrown into his lungs, and he was supposed to breathe around them.
His eyes flashed open and he choked on Kitty’s name, looking around for confirmation that some beast had gotten her—and he knew Kitty was better than that, nothing could get her so easily, but the smothering fear refused to listen to anything he knew.
She was just standing there, she was fine. Yet Puss couldn’t stop the choked sob that left him. The panic didn’t subside at her presence, it screamed at him to hide from her, to dig himself into the cloth and die in peace.
“¿Qué pasa?” her voice was too loud, it sounded like a snarling predator, it sounded like– “Puss, ¿qué está pasando?”
Puss let out a strangled mewl, trying to find the words to explain that something was coming to get them, that he couldn’t protect them, that he—
Not a word could leave him like this; his throat closed around each syllable and sent it back into the broiling and biting fear in his gut. His entire body was hot and cold and trembling– It was all he could do to recoil into himself, letting out a sob as the world felt like it turned sideways, his stomach clenching.
He was unable to stop the tears leaking from his eyes and the trembling through every limb like he was a chihuahueño. There was a whimper from above him; Perrito, his mind supplied.
There was a click-click of little claws as Perrito climbed onto the lip of the chest, trying and failing to get over the wood. Puss could hear his paws against the wood: Scrape, scrape, scrape–
Puss cowered from the noise as Perrito plopped himself into the chest, making Puss’s heart leap. Despite his fear, even the knowledge that the little dog was there was already making his racing thoughts slow. Perrito snuffled at his side, warning him of his presence, “Puss? Can you hear me?”
Puss couldn’t help himself; he uncurled to snatch Perrito and pull him closer, earning himself a yelp with his rough movements. He was terrified, he couldn’t breathe—Puss buried his face in the fur on Perrito’s stomach, clutching onto the little dog with all his might.
“Perro–” is all he managed, his voice sounding strangled and unfamiliar to his ears. “Tengo miedo…”
Perrito placed his head over Puss’s, letting out a sigh. Puss felt his shoulders relax at the knowledge that his companion was right here, was alive and breathing and cared, that his terror wasn’t the only feeling that could exist in this little chest.
“No puedo–” his throat protested his voice, his chest tried to suffocate him, “Respirar– No–”
Perrito rubbed his snout against Puss’s head, shushing him with the movement. He knew he was squishing the poor dog too hard, his toe letting him know its protests as his blood stained Perrito’s scratchy fur, but he couldn’t let go. He would surely perish if he let go, if he let go even a bit, the world would crumble and he would see nothing but black–
“Puss,” came the panicked voice of Kitty. Puss jolted and squeezed Perrito, grappling the dog for any hope of safety. “Puss, can I help?”
Puss returned her question with a pitiful whimper. He didn’t want her help, not really, but the thought of her leaving was worse than her voice– He usually loved her voice, loved her singing. He pressed his face against Perrito—his fur was wet, why was Perrito’s fur wet?
Oh, Puss was crying.
Not crying, even, leaking. A flood of tears… His shaky paw went to his face, feeling the tears. There were so many his fur was slicked down. Tears and blood were all over his face and in Perrito’s fur.
He looked at Kitty, his eyes unable to focus on her. His body felt wrong, his chest was rising and falling far too fast, stuttering with his hyperventilation. Puss swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. It didn’t work.
He didn’t want Kitty, but god he wanted Kitty so bad. He wanted this to be over, he wanted–
“Kitty…” He mewled, “Tengo miedo…”
“I can see that.” she huffed.
Dios, was Kitty mad at him? He tried to rub his eyes, but all he managed to do was to get blood around one of them, “L-lo siento… lo siento mucho…”
“Puss, don’t apologize,” she hiked her leg onto the lip of the chest, “Give me a second.”
She landed in the chest and Puss couldn’t help the undignified yelp that left him. It wasn’t becoming of a hero, a legend, but he couldn’t help but feel he was neither at the moment. He hardly felt like he was even really there. She recoiled from his yelp—so much movement, so much noise!
He pulled himself closer to Perrito, “¡Dis-ss-cúlpam-m-me por favor!”
“Puss!” Kitty snarled, “Will you stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong? I can’t fix it unless you–”
Oh, she really was mad at him!
Puss felt the shame in his throat expand, choking him along with terror. He could hardly think, his mind less and less willing to accept chains of thought.
The world went muffled. Suddenly there was pressure around his ears—keeping out whistles. He held onto Perrito tight.
..
“Puss!” Kitty snarled, “Will you stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong? I can’t fix it unless you–”
“Kitty!” Perrito put his paws over Puss’s ears, “You can’t yell at him, he’s– He’s scared, Kitty.”
Kitty went to snap back at Perrito that she knew that, but her eyes fell on Puss’s trembling form. He’d never looked so small and vulnerable, like an infant abandoned in the scorch of the desert, like…
She sighed, "Okay, Perrito. I'll try this your way—but only this time."
Perrito wagged his tail and brought his paws down from Puss's ears; Puss flinched, and Kitty's heart flinched with him. She slid down until she was sitting cross-legged.
“I am going to sit over here, okay?” she felt silly, narrating her actions for him as if he couldn’t hear… but it seemed he wasn’t paying attention to anything beyond the fact that there was sound. She swallowed, “Is it okay if I get closer?”
“Sí…” Puss nodded against Perrito’s belly, curling up as best he could while still holding onto the chihuahueño with his life.
She hated the way his voice sounded like this. His stutters weren't only stutters, but more like his voice broke over the words. Syllables got caught on his teeth and his tongue, dragged and then shot out, words went small and trembly, all of it occasionally dipping so quiet she was convinced he wasn't even speaking on purpose.
Kitty shuffled towards him, taking her boots off slowly, “I’m taking off my boots now.”
..
Kitty shuffled closer to him, taking her boots off slowly, “I’m taking off my boots now.”
Puss trembled in response, his mind reeling too fast to be concerned with her boots. He felt like he was dying still, his stomach was twisted in knots, and he wanted to throw up everything he’d ever eaten–
Kitty set her boots outside the chest and swallowed, “¿Puedo tocarte?”
Yes. No. Please.
Kitty outstretched her paw and Puss sniffled before bringing his head up to meet it with shaky, jolting movements. She pressed his head back down onto Perrito’s stomach, shushing him lightly. Puss relaxed, ever so slightly, and she began to rub his forehead, paying attention to his scar for just a second.
She brought her hand to his cheek and shushed a whimper that escaped him unwillingly, petting his whiskers softly, “You are safe, estas seguro conmigo,” She pulled her hands back and opened her arms, “Can you come here?”
Perrito’s yelp was all the warning she got before Puss was barreling into her. She fell into the silk below them in a tangle of limbs as Puss tried to get himself as close to her as possible without letting go of the little dog.
It took a second before Puss fit himself against her comfortably, Perrito dangling a bit as he held the dog like a stuffed animal. Kitty pulled Perrito up higher, giving him a stable place to put his legs against her stomach.
“Good job, cariño,” Kitty's voice was cautious as she praised him. Puss pressed his face against her chest, looking up at her with a trembling gaze and a mewl, unsure of how to respond. Kitty brought her hand back to the top of his head, “Chitón, cariño.”
“N-No soy un b-bebé…” Puss squeezed Perrito, tears finding their way past his eyeline again.
“No eres un bebé, sí,” she rubbed his cheek, “pero te amo.”
Puss seemed to accept that, closing his eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. Perrito licked Puss’s cheek, “Puss? Do you feel better?”
Not really, Puss wanted to say. Not at all.
He just pressed himself harder against Kitty in lieu of a response. She frowned, bringing her paw to his chest, “You’re still hyperventilating, cariño.”
Puss tucked his tail between his legs, suddenly struck with the thought he’d done something wrong. “I-I apologize…”
“Stop apologizing.”
Puss’s ears pinned harder against his head as he tried to find a way to apologize without saying sorry.
..
“Stop apologizing.”
She didn’t like the sound of these terrified little apologies on Puss’s lips. It sounded wrong, like a different cat was in her arms.
Puss’s ears pinned harder against his head. His heart was racing, she could feel it against her paw and her chest. She didn’t know what to do, not at all. He's never been like this before! She's known him for years, but this was all new and she felt like she was just making him feel worse and worse!
She swallowed, looking at Perrito. The dog lowered his ears as she mouthed, ‘what do I do?’
Perrito nuzzled Puss’s cheek, “Puss, can you still hear us?”
Puss nodded meekly, averting his eyes from both of them. He looked so small in Kitty’s arms, like he was just a kitten. Perrito put his paw on Puss’s chest, “Breathe with me and Kitty, okay?”
Perrito took a deep breath, looking to Kitty to copy him. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Perrito gave her a crooked smile before pressing on Puss’s chest, “Your turn now, Puss.”
Puss’s breath stuttered instead of going smoothly, and his eyes filled with the panic and shame of failure, “Lo siento–”
“It’s okay, Puss. Try again.” Perrito smiled, “Kitty will help! Right, Kitty?”
“Right.” Kitty smiled at Perrito, “Intentémoslo de nuevo, cariño.”
She took a deep breath, and then let it out. Puss didn’t copy her right away so she stopped, “Respira conmigo, with me. Do you want me to count for you?”
“D-Do not p-patronize Puss in B-Boots!” he didn’t sound very commanding when he was so out of breath, when his voice shook like he was in an earthquake.
“I’m not, mi amor,” she frowned, “¡Por favor! let me help you.”
Puss looked at her with tears in his eyes before nodding, squeezing his eyes closed. She laid back and settled him more comfortably against her chest, “Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, in.”
He managed to breathe in time with her, relaxing as he exhaled. She smiled, “Buen trabajo.”
Perrito wagged his tail, letting Kitty know she was doing it right. She began to pet Puss gently, getting the good spot between his ears, “Ese es un buen gatito.”
She took another deep breath and Puss followed suit, letting his tail uncurl from his leg and his paws and arms relax, his grip on Perrito loosening into something comfortable. Kitty kissed his forehead and whispered, “Mi buen gatito, el mejor gatito.”
“T-t-te amo…” He mewled, letting go of Perrito so he could hold onto Kitty, grabbing fistfuls of her fur.
She led him through another deep breath, running her paw down his side, “Te amo también.”
It took a while for Puss to calm down, Kitty guiding him through deep breaths for what had to be around an hour. Perrito was tucked against her side snoring softly by the time Puss went to knead her fur.
He'd started with just the motion when he'd gone to include his claws and yelped in pain, tears coming to his eyes as his toe began to sluggishly bleed again. He went to lick at it, soothe the pain, but Kitty stopped him, “No hagas eso, amor. It’ll get infected.”
“I am hurt!” His voice was barely above a whisper still, as if he was still hiding from the beast that only he could sense. He went to lick it again but Kitty grabbed his wrist and pulled his paw away from his face. Puss let out a hiss, “I am hurt and you refuse to let me clean it?”
“I will clean it,” she sat up, trying to pull him off of her, “Levántate, Puss.”
“I- I do not want to get up…” Puss pinned his ears back, “We should not leave.”
Kitty frowned, “We need to get it clean.”
“It does not hurt anymore! I am fine!” Puss gave her a strained smile.
“Oh, yes, you are fine!” Kitty scoffed at him, making him look away with such clear guilt on his face that it hurt her.
Perrito stirred at the louder voice. He kicked out his paws before looking up at the two cats, “Kitty?”
"Siento haberte despertado. Puss”—she sighed, emphasizing the single syllable like it was a whole sentence itself—“won't let me get up and clean his paw."
Puss frowned, “It does not hurt! It is a flesh wound, we do not have to leave.”
“¡Dios mío!” Kitty went to push him off again, “What is wrong with you? You want to sit in this little box for the rest of the trip?”
“Kitty–” Perrito tried and failed to get a word in.
“¡Sí! ¡Quiero quedarme aquí!”
“¿Por qué? ¡Nunca has estado así antes!”
“Kitty–”
“We don’t need to leave!” Puss unsheathed his claws, the sluggish bleeding speeding up as he seemingly just barely stopped himself from digging his claws into her for stability.
“Nothing’s happening!”
“Kitty!” Perrito finally got her attention.
“What?” she snapped back.
“Stop it,” Perrito pushed his head into Puss’s side, drawing Kitty’s attention to Puss’s state, “He’s still freaked out, don’t yell at him.”
Puss peered up at her with dilated eyes; his fur was on end, strung out like every follicle was being pulled, and his ears pinned back so hard it was pulling on his eyebrows. She could feel how stiff he was, how he trembled every second, how his tail tucked between his legs as tightly as it could. There were thick dark grey streaks down his face, his eyeliner and mascara thoroughly ruined for all his trouble, and blood—his blood—around his eye, on his cheek, on his nose, and coating his paw.
Her face softened, “Puss–”
“I am… sorry…” he mewled at her, as if he'd done something wrong.
Perrito pressed his face into Puss’s side again, “Puss, over here.”
..
"I am… sorry…” he mewled at her.
Perrito pressed his face into Puss’s side again, “Puss, over here.”
Puss’s eyes flickered from Kitty to the little dog and back again, a quiet meow leaving him. Perrito took Puss’s arm gently in his mouth, tugging just a bit. Puss forced himself back from Kitty on shaking limbs, moving slowly and indecisively. He didn’t want to be away from Kitty, but he didn’t want to upset her again–
Always upsetting her, good-for-nothing cat! Why does she even put up with you?
He sat back lamely, fear immobilizing him into the third choice of staying next to her, half sitting, half laying.
“Can you do something for me?” Perrito asked, his gentle voice a relief. Kitty sounded so mad at him, always so mad at him– Puss nodded despite himself, making Perrito smile, “Can you tell me five things you can see?”
“¿Qué?” Puss’s voice was trembling again– Dios, he was pathetic!
“Cinco cosas,” Perrito said, as if saying it in Spanish would make it less confusing of a request.
“Uhm…” Puss retreated into himself, curling up tighter, “I can see… my fur… you… th-the linen… uhm–” He trailed off, looking at Kitty. He felt stupid doing this–
“Two more,” Perrito trotted over and sat next to Puss, giving him a reassuring nudge.
“The- the chest… I think it is oak…”
“Oak’s a nice wood.”
“You would not know an oak from elm wood, dog.”
“Maybe not,” Perrito wagged his tail just a bit, “but you do. One more thing.”
“I can see Kitty…”
“Okay, so you can see me, the linen, the chest, and Kitty.”
“And my fur...”
“And your fur!” Perrito nuzzled him, “Can you tell me four things you can feel?”
“This is stupid–”
“Puss,” Perrito lowered his ears, “Please?”
“Fine… I can feel… your fur.”
“What’s it feel like?”
“You know what your own fur feels like!” Puss hissed before looking at Perrito and sighing, “It is spiky…”
“What else?”
“My toe. It hurts. A-and… uhm- the linen again… and the silk. The silk is softer…”
“Is it silky?” Perrito laid down, his head between his paws.
“It is silk.”
“True.” Perrito wagged his tail again, “You can feel my fur, your toe, the linen, and the silk. Do you want to keep going, or do you feel better?”
“...” Puss paused, “Can we keep going?”
“Okay! What are three things you can hear?”
..
“And what’s one thing you can taste?”
Puss licked the roof of his mouth, “ Leche… from last night.”
“Of course you can taste leche ,” Kitty sat up, grabbing the lip of the chest. She hefted herself over the edge and offered her hand to Puss. “C’mon, let’s get that toe cleaned.”
Puss frowned, “I still do not want to leave.”
“There is blood all over the linen, and on Perrito, and your face.” She pulled him up, “Can you try the breathing thing we did?”
Puss grappled onto her as he stepped out of the chest on shaking paws, “I– Okay.”
She smoothed the fur on his arm before pulling him against her, “Here, this might help.”
“Thank you.” he pressed his face into her shoulder, curling his tail around hers.
“Of course, mi pequeño gatito bonito.”
Puss chuckled as Kitty led them to the governor’s personal bathroom. She thought this might be the only time she was glad for a rich person’s need for convenience; she doubted Puss would fare well in the whipping wind of the sea. Even calmed down, he felt like glass in her paws, a leaf threatening to fall off the vine when against the slightest of spring breezes.
“It is like we are dancing,” Puss laughed lightly, the tension melting from his shoulders ever-so-slightly, “when we walk like this.”
“Me encanta bailar contigo,” she purred at his improving mood, “we haven’t done a proper dance in so long.”
“I would love to dance with you again.”
“As long as you promise not to hit me in the face with a guitar again, gato tonto.”
“It was one time!” he laughed even as he ‘snapped’ at her, “and it was before I knew how pretty you were.”
“Do you think I haven’t hit you with a guitar because you’re pretty?”
“I am pretty.”
“You are,” she opened the door to the restroom and sat him down on a stool next to the tub. He let out a mewl as she pulled away, “Cálmate, gatito. I am just getting a rag!”
“Do not leave me,” he held onto her paw.
“I will still be in the room, Puss.” she rubbed his paw with her thumb, “I will be right here. I am not leaving you.”
“A-And I will not leave you.” Puss pressed her paw to his cheek.
“I know, mi amor,” Kitty leaned in and kissed his forehead scar, “I know.”
He let her paw go, pulling his own back into his space. Kitty smiled at him, hopping onto the sink and finding a hand towel. She tested the softness against her face, clicking her tongue at the scratch and trying another. This one was a gentle off-white and felt almost like fuzz under her paws.
She hummed and turned on the faucet, her eyebrows raising at how quick the water came from the spout. Puss said Far Far Away had faucets that ran in a second and soap that anybody could buy; it had seemed like his regular exaggerating until she turned on this faucet. She laughed softly at the thought of such a place.
Puss made a sound at her laughter, beckoning her to hurry with wetting the cloth and hop down from the sink. She bent down and pressed her nose to his for a second, smirking at his confusion, “Siéntate derecho, nenè.”
Puss’s face began to heat as he sat up, “Nenè?”
Kitty began to dab at the blood on his face, “Oh, is that one your favorite?”
“It is just…” his eyes traveled to her lips, then to her nose, then to her eyes, taking in her entire face, “a lot.”
“Not bad, I hope,” She took his face in her paw, pulling him closer so she could get the blood around his eyes. Their eyes met and he blinked slowly before letting his eyes slip shut. Kitty swallowed, affection choking her up.
“Not bad.” he replied, letting her move his face as she cleaned it.
After that they fell into a comfortable silence, Puss purring softly as she wiped his face. She snickered as his eyeliner smeared, “Sorry, nenè. You can fix your makeup later.”
“You can take it off.” Puss opened his eyes just a bit, looking up at her with complete trust.
Kitty felt her breath stop, it was taken away by the faith and love in those hooded eyes. She had always longed for someone she could trust, but… it felt like nothing else when someone trusted her. He trusted her, wholly and fully.
“De acuerdo,” she whispered, gently removing his eyeliner. She raised her eyebrows as a walnut brown smear appeared on the cloth, “Are you wearing eye shadow?”
He smiled softly, “Sí. It enhances my liner.”
“Dios mío, Puss,” she rolled her eyes, “You wear more makeup than I do.”
“You wear makeup?”
“No,” she laughed.
His smile changed to a coquettish smirk, “Beauties like you have no need for it anyway, Kitty.”
She smacked him with the washcloth, making him yelp, “¡Ay!”
“Behave yourself.”
“I am behaved!” he huffed, pointing a finger at her, “You are simply cruel to me, Kitty Softpaws.”
She pushed his forehead, making him sit back, “Yes, yes, I am cruel and evil, Puss in Boots.”
“Mujer diablo,” he crossed his arms and huffed playfully, looking away from her for just a moment before his eyes came back to her.
“Ven aquí, estúpido.” She pulled him by the chin, wiping off the rest of his makeup. “You should wear lipstick too, chica tonta.”
“I am a chica hermosa,” he emphasized the ‘hermosa’, puffing out his chest.
“Of course, señorita ,” she booped his nose.
"Ack– why does every cat I know do that?”
“Because, you are cute.”
He pouted at her, scrunching his face in that adorable way he does. She chuckled, letting him pout for a second before she took his paw in her hand, “Alright, sit still.”
He sucked in a breath as she pressed the wet cloth to his bleeding toe. He looked like he was trying not to be weak infront of her, which made her heart ache. She eased up on the pressure, giving him a second to exhale.
“One more time and then we will soak it in water, ¿sí?”
“I hate water…” he winced as she began to press on the wound again, squeezing his eyes shut.
She cooed at him, rubbing his paw pad, “Shush, mi pequeño gatito. If you are good, I will give you a reward.”
He whimpered as she moved the rag to rub his paw before managing to say, “I like rewards.”
“Of course you do,” she chuckled, letting off the pressure. He let out a sigh of relief, his posture sagging. She held him up, laughter trickling into her voice, “Pobre, pobre gatito, ¡te tengo!”
He nuzzled his face into her paw, sighing, “Normally, I would say not to patronize me… but…”
Kitty cradled his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She stayed there, taking in the smell of Puss. He smelled like sleep still, with just a hint of leche. The coppery smell was gone, replaced with the smell of his breath and the remaining scent of dog in his fur. She tilted his face up and slotted her lips against his, softness filling the space between them. His eyes fluttered shut as hers remained just barely open enough to see him.
“Did you like your reward?” she whispered against his lips.
She could feel his smile as he opened his eyes to meet hers, “Eh, maybe. Perhaps we should do it again, so I can know for sure.”
“You are a dog, Puss in Boots,” Kitty put her finger to his lips and pulled away, “Rewards are earned, not given.”
“I have earned a thousand of the kisses!” he pouted and grabbed at her.
Kitty rolled her eyes playfully before leaning in, “Fine, just one more kiss.”
She knew at the sound of Puss’s purr it would be more than one.