“So what do you think, Willard?” Sandra asked as she plopped down onto the couch. It had been a long day. And it wasn’t over yet, as much as she would have liked it to be.
“Mrow,” Willard said wisely. He leaped off of the kitchen chair and trotted over, tail twitching in anticipation of dinner.
“Very wise,” Sandra replied. “I’ll get you dinner in a minute. I have to make this call before I lose my nerve.”
“Mrroooow,” Willard protested. He huffed out a breath, spun around a few times, then jumped onto Sandra’s lap. Presumably to keep her from running away and betraying her promise.
“You want to make it for me?” Sandra asked. “That would make my night easier. Here you go.” She brought up the dialer on phone and held it front of Willard’s nose.
Willard was not impressed. He turned his green eyes on her and stared. The “this is not dinner” stare.
“Well fine,” Sandra said. “If you’re not going to make yourself useful.” Deep breath. Spending a few minutes petting a cat wouldn’t hurt. Willard’s fur was as soft as when was a kitten. Nobody would guess he was nearly fifteen. And he’d seen Sandra through a lot worse in those long kitty-years.
“Fine,” Sandra repeated. She brought up her mom’s contact and hit “call” before she could second-guess herself. It rang only twice before it picked up.
“Hi, mom. Do you have a minute to talk?”