Looking at my brother, I blushed when he saw all the scratches and scuffs on me.
“Did you get another cat?”
I missed my cat. I’d had a munchkin kitty until it died two years ago from breed-related problems. To be fair, I’d got it because I wanted to stop someone from ever breeding it in the first place, but still.
I’d gone to sleep one night with him wrapped around my head like he usually did, and I’d woken up the following day to find out he’d passed away in his sleep. I still felt sad when I thought about him.
I still had my house-trained Continental Giant rabbit, though. Skippy was fantastic and had the freedom to hop around the ground floor all day, every day, because he went potty in a litter tray. I’d consulted specialists online when I’d got him and had put entertainment down and made a special place for him to sleep in the pantry where he’d feel safe.
Now, he hopped around doing his own thing, and when he wanted attention, he let me know. He’d also grown up with my brothers' dogs and pets, so nothing fazed him, really. Well, so long as he had his own space to return to when he was done socializing.
Having an oversized bunny who pooped and peed in a litter tray had initially attracted a lot of attention from my family, with questions about my sanity and emotional state. But one brother had a tiny horse who slept on his lap, another had a pet turkey, and there was a micro pig was in the mix, too. A giant rabbit was nothing in comparison.
What I didn’t have was anything that’d scratch me up like I was now, so my brother’s question was valid.
Waving them in, I shut the door. “Nope, no kitty, I’m afraid. Would y’all like anything to drink? I was just about to make some co—”
The little feathered traitor did his crowing shit at that moment, letting them know where he was. That little narc!
“That’s Gilbert,” Crystal cried. “He’s in the tree again.”
Ren looked around the place with a frown. “It didn’t sound like it came from outside.”
A sudden idea hit me. “Why don’t you go and check upstairs? I told you he’s capable of breaking into my house. Maybe if you find him, you’ll believe me next time.”
Giving me an exasperated look, he took the stairs two at a time, and then he disappeared, leaving me with a relieved niece.
“You drink coffee yet?” I joked, pushing her hair off her forehead.
“No, silly. I’m too little,” she giggled.
“Huh. What about a beer?” Crystal shook her head, still laughing. “Wine?”
“Is it the pink stuff?”
Her question shocked me for a moment. “How do you know about pink wine?”
“Mommy drinks it. She says white’s too bitter and red gives her a sore head, so she drinks the pink one. Why’s the white one bitter? Do you get a headache, too?”
“Only when I drink too much. Now, how about some apple or orange juice?”
She looked at me like she was assessing me for something. “Why do you have lots of cuts?”
“Umm, I got new soap?” She was five, what did she know?
Except I was wrong. “Why would the soap cut you?”
I grasped at the first excuse that hit me. “Because it has stuff in it that takes off all the old skin. Beauty people call it exfoliant.”
The asshole—soon to be known as ‘Extra Crispy Recipe’—flew down the stairs, his wings flapping like he was fighting against a hurricane.
“Found him in your room,” Ren explained as he joined us and opened the door so Crispy could get back out. “Seems he managed to open the window and close it.”
“I told you he could do that,” I said, smiling smugly at him.
Crystal said a quick goodbye, then ran out and chased after Gilbert/Crispy, yelling at him to get home. Their house was right in front of mine, but we had a reasonable distance for privacy reasons between us, so we watched her as she did it.
“Funny thing—he took the pillow out of your pillowcase. He must have been in it at some point but managed to get out and do some damage.”