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Heinz was bored out of his freaking mind.
Now that he had – reluctantly, but willingly – resumed an active field post, he was now required to acquire a host family.
He longed for the old days. Back when he was an endangered species, he didn’t have to undergo any of this nonsense. Plus, the one time he attempted to go fully undercover, in the late 90s, had settled this particular urge forever.
Charlene had been nice enough, at first. He had been intrigued by her, when she had adopted him from the OWCA shelter for a brief time. That lasted until she tried to have him neutered, hence that particular clause in his new home placement contract.
Though no longer endangered, ocelots could still be granted a bit of legal clemency. Anyone who adopted him would be forced to sign off on a few legal conditions – part of his agreement for any field work. No declawing. No neutering. Not that Heinz was actively looking for a mate. He just wasn’t fond of the idea of someone removing bits of his anatomy – who would be? No nothing that could reduce his effectiveness as a field agent.
Unsurprisingly, there had been no takers at this point, three months into his new assignment.
He had already thwarted quite a few of Doctor B’s evil schemes, a few only by the skin of his fangs, and was loving every moment of it.
The man was brilliant and devious and kept Heinz on the tip of his toes every single encounter. Even Kevin had never been this engaging, and that had been his longest nemesis-ship before now.
But the agency insisted that he needed a host-family. A nice, friendly balance, so to speak, for his nemesis-ship. It was a part of the required therapy for all active field agents these days – agent 50% of the time, pampered house pet the other 50%.
He understood it even as much as he loathed the necessity of it.
As an ocelot among other animals, he could easily remain aloof, smug, an elite predator in his own social pool. But with humans, even as an animal, Heinz still remained a bit awkward, a bit undesirable, in terms of companionship.
Hence his newest part-time punishment – sitting in a pen in the OWCA adoption facility, awaiting a new family to host him in his off-hours.
He was still freaking bored.
He had sat here for several hours each weekend, awaiting a new family. The first month, he eagerly sat at the window of his kennel, purring happily at anyone who looked his way. The few who had looked, had quickly looked away again, after the reading of his ‘contract’.
Now he didn’t bother. He sat curled up in the back of his ’cell’, facing the wall, every adoption day, no matter what snark Monogram gave him. He didn’t actually need to be adopted. Despite OWCA’s insistence, he was their oldest field agent, one of their oldest active members for that matter, and so could be granted a little leeway in his own personal affairs. While adoption by a host family helped numerous new agents balance their work and personal lives, it hadn’t been required back in his day.
He didn’t need this adoption malarkey to make him a top agent.
That also didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt every time he was passed over.
But, he sniffed, he was above it. He was. He didn’t need a family – he had had the best family anyone could offer years ago, with Mutti and Vati and Odette and Otto, and that was far better than anyone else could expect, really. So all these potential adopters could just sod off, really.
‘Sod off.’ Heinz made a mental note to stop watching so many British shows on the wireless. This obsession with understanding Doctor B’s dual-cultures needed to stop, now.
Maybe. Not like he’d find a part British family in these parts, after all.
“Hey, Ferb, this one’s looking at me!” a young voice exclaimed in the outer room.
“And this one is looking at me,” came another young, calmer voice.
Heinz’s shoulders curled inwards. Great, a fresh young family here to adopt a new pet. Where was Peter to make his humiliation complete?
Oh, that’s right, he was adopted within minutes of his first adoption detail. The bastard.
“Hey… why doesn’t this one look at anyone,” a young voice wondered. Heinz’s ear twitched, but he didn’t turn. Didn’t dare to.
“Heinz is an ocelot. They were endangered not-too-long ago, and so he has certain… conditions associated with his adoption,” Carl’s undercover voice reluctantly revealed.
“What conditions?” came a practical adult voice, female, and Heinz knew better than to look up. Once the mother stepped in, all hope was basically lost.
Carl enumerated all his contractual conditions, and with each one, Heinz curled in a little tighter upon himself. Maybe he should review his contract, again. He somehow hadn’t realized how unadoptable, how potentially unlovable, he was until now…
The cage door squeaked open, and Carl’s voice stuttered to a stop, even as the mother’s voice cried out in warning. Heinz stared disbelievingly at his wall, tense, as a light hand settled on his head and stroked gently backwards.
Another set of light footsteps, another hand stroking gently, caused him to unintentionally relax and start purring.
The strokes gained strength, and another, only slightly heavier set of feet came into his cell.
“You’re sure about this,” a young female voice asked, before joining the petting-fest.
“He’s perfect, isn’t he,” the voice belonging to the first hand said. Heinz peeked upwards, settling on a pointed nose and shock of bright orange hair. He glanced towards the second hand – slightly older boy, green hair –
The girl, third hand, was more obviously related to the first hand. “He is,” she cooed, and while part of him knew he should be offended to be thought of as a simple animal, he was mostly awed.
He hadn’t felt this easy acceptance since Otto, the last of his true kin, had died. This simple acceptance, simple love, since then.
He looked pointedly at Carl-in-disguise, and nodded once, decisively.
Carl smiled back, and hurriedly ran to grab the adoption papers.