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It was a beautiful Saturday morning in late June, just a few days after Shane, Ilya, and Anya settled into the cottage for the summer. Shane set off at 7 AM for his early morning run. Sometimes Ilya joined him, but today Shane was letting his husband sleep in, instead choosing to take a solo run along the 10 km stretch of road between his cottage and the nearest gas station.
When he arrived, he decided to go inside and wave hello to Louis and Steve, the older couple who owned the place. Louis was at the counter, while Steve was restocking candy bars. Today marked Ilya's third straight month without smoking, so Shane picked up a snickers as a celebratory treat. He handed Louis a ten at the register.
Keep the change, Shane signed. He had been learning some sign language since he met Louis, who was deaf, and he was ridiculously excited to show off what he had learned. Louis lit up.
Thank you, Louis signed back to Shane. Shane beamed back, feeling warm and proud of himself. He waved goodbye and went out the glass doors.
Suddenly, he felt something soft brush his leg.
"Oh!" Shane yelped. He looked down to see a grey cat with big yellow-green eyes staring back at him. The cat meowed back and rubbed his face against Shane's ankle. "Hello there cat."
Shane had never seen a cat there before, and he wondered if it was lost. He went back inside the store, the cat following at his heels.
"Hey Steve. Do you know who's cat this is?" Shane asked. "It just came up to me outside."
"No, he showed up here a few days ago," Steve explained. "We'd take him in, but our cat Marcia doesn't get along with other animals."
"Oh," Shane said. He looked down at the friendly guy, who had now flopped over Shane's running shoes, showing his soft tummy. "Is he a runaway?"
Steve shook his head regretfully.
"We asked everyone around for miles, but nobody was missing a cat," he explained.
"He needs a home," Louis said out loud. It surprised Shane, who had never heard Louis' voice before. Louis was beaming at the little guy now purring at his feet. "Looks like he found one."
"Good morning," Ilya greeted his husband when he finally returned from his run. It was almost nine, and Ilya was starting to get concerned. Shane didn't normally take that long.
"Hey," Shane replied. Just before he shut the door, something small and fuzzy darted inside behind him.
"Who is this?" Ilya asked, ogling the grey cat now rubbing itself against Shane's legs.
"He followed me home," Shane sighed, looking exhausted. "I couldn't get him to go away."
"He?" Ilya asked. "It is a he?"
"That's what Steve said," Shane explained. He leaned down and gently stroked the cat's head.
”What are you going to do with it—him?” Ilya asked.
”I…” Shane began, but didn’t finish as the kitty started purring loudly. The cat looked a bit rough, a little skinny, with a few scabbing scratches on its head, like he had been in a fight. Nonetheless, he was purring contently as Shane scratched behind his ears.
”Shane, we have Anya,” Ilya said. Anya, who was asleep in her bed, perked up at her name.
“Yes, I know.” Anya then noticed the cat, jumping out of her bed in surprise.
“We cannot get a cat,” Ilya continued. Anya carefully stalked over, lowly growling at the feline intruder.
”I know! I know,” Shane repeated. “What do you want me to do? All the shelters in a 100 km radius are closed on the weekend.”
”I don’t know, but it cannot stay,” Ilya emphasised.
Anya barked at the cat, who hissed back. Anya immediately retreated, whimpering as she hid behind Ilya’s legs. Ilya quickly bundled her in his arms.
“Oh sweetheart! Was the scary kitty mean to you?” Ilya cooed, smushing her face in his hands.
”Mean? She barked at him!”
”He is scary intruder!”
”He’s half her size!” Shane argued. He sighed. “Look, I know we can’t keep him, but his paw is hurt. We can’t just leave him outside, Ilya.”
”Why not? He is big scary kitty.”
”He’s a sweet little kitty with a hurt paw.” Shane picked him up, showing Ilya his paw, which was indeed bleeding. “Look, he’s friendly. And he’s hurt. We have to help him, Ilya.”
Ilya never had a cat, but Svetlana did, and her cat was the meanest thing on the planet. Ilya had no interest bringing one into the house. But Ilya looked at the cat in his husbands arms, who was purring happily. He sighed.
"Fine. He can stay for weekend. But first thing Monday morning, he is gone."
Shane had never had animals growing up. His dad was allergic to cats, and his mom thought dogs were too dirty to have in the house. He never thought about getting a pet after he moved out, because it wasn't a part of Shane's normal.
Not that he thought having pets was abnormal. Plenty of Shane's friends had pets, of course. Harris and Troy had Chiron. Rose had a very fluffy, very sassy cat aptly named Princess. But it wasn't Shane's normal. It didn't even really occur to him to get a pet for himself.
Then Anya came into the picture. Shane was skeptical at first, but he was quickly won over when he saw how happy she made Ilya. So Shane adjusted his life for his husband, and thankfully Ilya had no qualms about spending exorbitant amounts of money on Anya, so she was always very well groomed.
Anya was always Ilya's dog more than she was Shane's, which Shane didn't mind. He didn't really like her to lick him and he always felt a little dirty after touching her, despite the fact that she got professionally groomed once a week. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel like he was missing out on something by not having a pet of his own.
Then a little grey cat walked into his life and decided that Shane was his new favourite person. He followed Shane into every room. Shane had gone out to get him a litter box, food, and a carrier, and while he was there, a bed and little toy mouse as well. He might as well make the little guy comfortable until he was brought to the shelter, right?
That night, Shane was surprised he woke up at 3 AM to find the fuzzy little guy lying on his chest. It startled Shane at first, and he flinched so hard the cat ran away, but Shane kind of wanted it to happen again. So the next night, he left the door open again, and lo and behold Shane woke up at 3 AM to the soft, warm weight of his new buddy on his chest. Shane felt so special.
Monday morning, Ilya found his husband on the couch reading, the cat was curled up in his lap and sleeping peacefully.
"Shane?" Ilya asked. Shane looked up from his book.
"Yes?"
"I thought you were taking cat to shelter," Ilya said. Anya huffed indignantly from her bed on cue.
"Yeah about that..." Shane started. Ilya frowned. "I know I said I would take him to the shelter, but I thought before I did that, he should really get his paw checked out at the vet."
Ilya sighed. He had tolerated 48 hours with the tiny beast. It was constantly following Shane around, brushing up against him and curling up in his lap at every opportunity. Ilya could see his husband was being manipulated by this tiny creature.
"You are just saying that because it likes you."
"It's a he," Shane corrected. "And no! I promise I will take him after he gets checked out by the vet, okay? It would be irresponsible to take him to the shelter in this condition."
Ilya sighed. He knew he wasn't winning this argument.
The next day, Shane brought the cat into the nearest veterinarian's office.
"Does your kitty have a name?" the vet tech asked.
"Oh, um, no. He's not mine, he's a stray. I just wanted to get his paw checked out before I took him to the shelter," he explained.
"That's very kind of you," the tech said, smiling. "Well, what would you like me to put there for now?"
Shane thought for a moment. He hadn't really thought about a name, because he was still planning on taking the cat to a shelter. But the vet tech was asking, and Shane needed to think of something.
"Maurice," Shane said. The tech smiled and typed it into her computer.
"If you'd like, I can make a list of local shelters for you," she offered.
"No thanks," Shane said, rather quick. "I already have one in mind."
This wasn't entirely true. Shane had looked at shelters in the area, but none of them seemed good enough. The animals were usually kept in small enclosures, and Maurice loved to run around and play. He also was very cuddly, and Shane knew he wouldn't be getting very many cuddles in a place like that. Shane couldn't let that happen.
Maurice was taken back to be checked on by the vet, and they gave him some antibiotic ointment to put on it to prevent infection. They also put him in a cone, which made Shane sad, but they explained that Maurice was trying to lick the ointment off and it would upset his tummy.
When they got back to the cottage, Ilya was waiting for them.
"What is that?" Ilya asked when he saw the cone. "What happened to him?"
"He's fine," Shane reassured. "They put it on him so he wouldn't lick the ointment off his paw."
”How bad is it, his paw?”
”Not too bad. He’s on the antibiotic ointment for seven days.”
”And after that you will take him to the shelter, yes?” Ilya asked, raising his eyebrows. Shane swallowed.
”Yes,” Shane said, looking away. "That's what I said." He tried to ignore the sorrow growing in his chest at the thought of giving Maurice away.
”Ilya!” Shane called from the living room a day later. Ilya got up to see what was wrong, and found his husband on the couch, the cat curled up in his lap. Shane gazed at it lovingly, gently stroking between his ears as an old hockey documentary idly played in the background.
”Yes?” Ilya asked.
”Could you get me some water? I can’t move."
”Why can’t you move?”
Shane gestured to the grey cat curled up in his lap, cone and all.
”I’m stuck here until he gets up.”
Ilya rolled his eyes.
”Shane, it is a kitty cat. If you move he will move.”
”But he’s sleeping. I don’t want to disturb him.” Shane again gestured to the cat, which was indeed fast asleep. Ilya wouldn’t admit it, but it was adorable.
”You are ridiculous,” Ilya grumbled, but he went to the kitchen to get the water.
”You know, I was thinking…” Shane began when Ilya came back. “It’s been kind of nice having Maurice around.”
”Maurice?” Ilya asked. “Who is Maurice?”
”The cat,” Shane said simply. The cat made a little snort in his sleep, which even Ilya could admit was cute.
”You named the cat Maurice?”
”Yeah?" Shane replied bitchily. "The vet needed to have a name in the system, and I came up with Maurice.”
”Why Maurice?”
”After Maurice Richards,” Shane explained. Of course it was something hockey related. Ilya couldn't help but smile at his ridiculous husband.
“Is he also old man from Great Depression?” he teased.
”No. The vet said he was only about a year old,” Shane replied in earnest. Ilya rolled his eyes lovingly.
“Of course you pick most boring hockey name ever.”
“I was put on the spot!" Shane argued, defensive. "And I don’t know, it felt fitting.”
“I think he looks more like a Timbit," Ilya said.
“I don’t think there are any grey Timbits,” Shane replied, frowning.
“He is little and round. Use your imagination, Hollander!”
“Okay, whatever! We can talk about this later,” Shane huffed. “My point is, it’s been nice having him, and I don’t want to take the cat to the shelter.”
“I can do it if you think it will be too hard for you,” Ilya offered.
“No, Ilya. I don’t want him to go to the shelter at all." Shane took a deep breath before looking up at Ilya with those gorgeous brown eyes. "I think he should be our cat.”
Ilya paused. He feared this might happen, but naively he thought his serious husband would keep strong against Timbit’s adorable façade. But Ilya could see now Timbit’s round fuzzy visage broke Shane’s resolve.
”Shane,” Ilya sighed. “This is a bad idea. We have Anya.” What they had was perfect. Why did Shane want to mess with that?
“They’ve been doing okay so far. They mainly just avoid each other.”
“And what would we do when we go on road trips?”
“We could board her like Anya. Or my parents could take care of them.”
“Didn’t you say your dad is allergic to cats?”
“Yes, but Russian Blues are hypoallergenic.”
That caught Ilya’s attention.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“They’re hypoallergenic,” Shane repeated.
“No, no. The other thing. Russian Blue?”
“Yeah. Maurice is a Russian Blue,” Shane explained. “It’s a cat breed. They’re called that because their grey fur kind of looks blue.”
“And they are Russian?” Ilya asked, intrigued.
“I don’t know. I guess so? I’ve never looked it up.”
Ilya pulled out his phone and searched “Russian Blue” on the internet.
“Yes, it says here they are from Russia,” Ilya said. He turned to Timbit. “Ты говоришь по-русски, котик?”
As if he understood, Timbit lifted his little head and meowed.
“Did you see that Shane?” Ilya exclaimed. “I asked him if he spoke Russian, and he said yes!”
“I don’t think he actually speaks Russian, Ilya."
“Then why did he meow if he did not understand me?” Ilya countered.
“It was probably a coincidence! You do realise this cat isn’t actually from Russia right?”
“No, no. He must. He is Russian! It is in his blood.”
“That’s definitely not how that works.”
Ilya didn’t respond, instead pet Timbit’s little head. It was so small compared to Anya’s, and so soft. Ilya went to scratch his cheeks, but suddenly, Timbit hit him with his tiny fuzzy paw.
“What the fuck?” Ilya gasped. “Shane! He hit me!”
“You didn’t ask if he wanted to be touched,” Shane explained.
“What? But he is a pet! His job is to be pet! Is in the name!"
“I don’t like random people touching me without permission either,” Shane replied with a shrug.
“So is okay for him to hit me?” Ilya said, putting a hand to his chest in scandal.
“Oh come on. That was more like a tap.”
“He assaulted me!” Ilya accused, clutching his metaphorical pearls.
"Now you're just being ridiculous."
"My own husband," Ilya pouted. "I am being abused and he is... what is word? Accomplice?"
“You’re so dramatic,” Shane said, rolling his eyes. “You should ask for permission first. Like this.”
Shane gave the cat his finger to sniff to see if he wanted to be touched. When the cat gently nudged the finger, Shane gently scratched behind his ears and under his chin. The cat purred happily.
“See?”
Ilya gawked at him.
“This is witchcraft," Ilya declared. Shane rolled his eyes.
“You just have to respect his boundaries,” he replied.
“Or maybe your cat just hates me.”
Shane paused, taking in Ilya’s words, before looking up at him.
“My cat?” he asked. He looked up at Ilya, his big brown eyes filled with a cautious hope, and Ilya realised that Shane was serious about this. And when Shane was looking at him with those Bambi eyes, Ilya was putty in his hands.
“Yes, I think so. Probably.”
Shane’s face cracked into a smile, and Ilya couldn’t help but melt into his husband for a kiss.
If this cat made Shane happy, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He supposed a Russian Blue is the most acceptable kind of cat.
