Majid is the biggest Maine coon cat you’ve ever seen, and he doesn’t take any crap from anybody. This would be okay if he had a less all-inclusive definition of “crap.” I know Maine coons are mostly sweethearts, but Majid is a mutant. Clare had given up trying to rehome him. Most of the Family end up that way because nobody wants them—Bella’s too big, Athena has a torn lip from her racing days that healed so she looks like she’s snarling all the time, Jonesie is one big battle scar from before Clare rescued him from his previous so-called shelter and reformed him, and so on. Angela (spreading herself out ecstatically on the empty sofa) has only one eye; Mugwump growls at everybody. Majid, aside from being huge, is gorgeous—whorls of brown and mahogany with a little white on his chest and front paws—and people keep trying to adopt him because he’s so spectacular to look at, and can be very charming when he’s in the mood.
The mood never lasts long. He always comes back in a week or two having eaten the mailman or given the neighbors’ Rottweiler a nervous breakdown. He and Bella have reached an immovable object/irresistible force compromise, and he (mostly) accepts his role as a member of the Family, but Clare now locks him up (when she can catch him) when the shelter is open in case he takes a dislike to someone who, barring traumas involving a pissed-off saber-toothed tiger, might take one of our other tenants home with them.
“Oh, hi,” said Takahiro, surprised, and bent down to pet him with his other hand. Majid’s motor went into overdrive. When a thirty-pound cat purrs, the walls shake.
“No,” Clare and I said simultaneously. Taks looked up. Majid had rolled over and presented several acres of hairy belly for rubbing. Bella stood looking dignified (and disgusted). Athena and Jonesie turned their backs (which is a bit risky with Majid, although he was pretty good with the Family). Most of the cats on the windowsill were now staring in the opposite direction and trying to make their fur lie down, with mixed success. “We are not taking Mr. Destructo with us,” I said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever petted a cat before,” said Takahiro. “The undercoat is so soft.”
“That’s not a cat,” I said. “That’s Majid. He’s a force of nature. Any resemblance to a real cat is bogus.”
“I’ll get the gloves,” said Clare. Pretty much only Clare or I could remove Majid from somewhere he wanted to be, but it was still a good idea to be wearing gloves when you tried it. The Majid gloves were heavy leather gauntlets with the cuffs extending most of the way to your elbows. He could just bite your head off, but he (probably) wouldn’t to Clare or me.
The Mammothmobile pulled up and stopped. I heard the bang of Jill’s door. So did Majid. Furthermore he was smart. As soon as I started clipping leads on our new escort he would know exactly what was up. Clare had better hurry with those gloves. I went out to spread the blanket in the car. With the back seats down there was a lot of room, although we humans were going to be squashed in front with the bag of dog food. Plus three knapsacks and an algebra book.
“It’s kind of interesting you’re driving a car big enough for a wolfhound and a mastiff to get in the back of today,” I said.
“And a greyhound, a dark brown bear, and a brindle utility vehicle,” said Jill.
“Greyhounds don’t take up much room,” I said. “They’re like dog silhouettes. But why today? Usually the Mammothmobile is stuck to the side of your house by several months’ worth of cobwebs because nobody wants to pay for the gas.”
“Nah,” said Jill. “Greg takes it out at least once a month and runs over any small annoying children that have piled up in our neighborhood since the last time he took it out. But I had an f-word moment this morning—although I didn’t know it was going to be animals. I almost funked out at the gas station. Mammoth gets the mileage of like the space shuttle.” She was tucking a corner of blanket under the seat, where it might conceivably stay put for twenty seconds after twenty paws started clawing at it. “What’s Mongo going to think?” she said.
“Mongo will be thrilled,” I said. “It’s bringing them back again that’s going to be hard.”
Clare had reappeared with the gloves at last and gingerly picked Majid up. He went ominously limp—you have the idea that cooperation is not Majid’s central reason for living—while Jill and Takahiro and I took the dogs out to the car and persuaded them to jump in the back. We started with Bella because what she did the others would all do, but she was too tall. We had to straighten her forelegs out and then lift her back end up and shove. I got the front end and Taks got the back. She put up with all this with her usual supernatural courtesy. “What a good girl,” I said, and gave her a dog biscuit, which made all the other ones want a dog biscuit too, so the rest of the loading was pretty easy, if ridiculous. It was very crowded back there, although everyone was looking bright-eyed and interested. It should be okay: they slept in heaps most of the time anyway.
I slung a bag of kibble almost as big as I was on the front seat. There were going to be four of us: Jill, Takahiro, me and a bag of dog food. Even the Mammoth wasn’t that large a car. I stuffed a few cans of wet food in the footwell under the folded-down back seat.
“I’ll get in the middle,” I said. When I wasn’t dealing with immediate stuff, like funneling five large dogs into a three-and-a-half large dogs’ space, my brain kept reverting to where are the gruuaa where have they gone and why? Hix was still wrapped around my neck, but she was too still, and if a feather boa could be stiff she was stiff. I couldn’t tell if my increasing sense of doom was just the gruuaa’s absence or something else: the armydar was making me stupid in spite of Hix, and we were about to leave the relative safety of the shelter and go back out on the street. Both Jill and Takahiro looked a little drawn, and Clare looked positively wasted, but that might have been because she was carrying a deadly weapon with a history of sudden unpredictable detonations.
Takahiro jammed himself in beside me while Jill started the car. There was a little panting going on in the back seat but I hoped nothing too severe. Jonesie was trying to get at the cans of dog food but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t succeed. And even with a Staffie’s jaws he probably wouldn’t be able to open them. Probably. “Ow,” I said.
“Sorry,” said Taks, and scooped my legs up and draped them over his knees. “Oh,” I said, startled.
I could hear Jill trying not to laugh as she said, “More.”
“Okay,” said Taks agreeably, rearranging my legs so they were over only one of his knees. Then he put his arm around me. I felt myself nestling up to his side as if I wanted to be there—I also felt myself blushing so hotly my head might explode and never mind the armydar. Jill put the Mammoth in gear and we started rolling downhill toward the gate. The pressure increased immediately: it was so bad you could almost hear it, although maybe that was just the bones of your skull grinding together. “Drive slowly,” said Takahiro.
“Of course,” said Jill. “There are a lot of loose animals in the back seat.”
As if on cue Bella put her head through the gap in the headrest. “Oh, sweetie,” I said. “I hope you’re all all right back there.” Bella, who was usually pretty reserved, lowered her massive head and gave me a brief lick with a tongue the size of a bath towel. I instantly felt better, and Hix stirred like someone waking out of a deep, drugged sleep. My head cleared—although whether it was more the armydar or Taks’ nearness that was messing me up I don’t know. I could feel Taks’ breath against my hair. If I snuggled—I mean turned—just a little bit, I could rest my cheek against his shoulder. This would be a good thing, because then maybe Hix would curl around him too. That was all I was thinking about. I wasn’t thinking about the warm weight of his arm around me, the way it tucked under my elbow so the long-fingered hand could lie palm up in my lap. I hadn’t thought about how long Taks’ fingers were since he had been that silent little boy folding paper. It was only because I was worried about how my old friend was doing that I picked up his hand and held it with both of mine. But I felt him relax a degree or two—like I had when Bella had licked me.