Legal Seagull

Chapter Seven

I awoke to the sound of four little feet charging rapidly up and down my private staircase. The stomping rose to the top of the stairs then paused.

“Reo-reow!” Octo-Cat cried from the other side of my door, a cat possessed. His point apparently now made, he raced back down the stairs and up again and down before letting out another echoing cry. “Reowowoweoeoweoew!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. He so rarely got the zoomies, but when he did, my sides usually ended up aching from all the unexpected laughing at his antics.

“Seems like someone’s more than a little bit excited about our big trip,” I called after flinging the door open.

My cat rushed into the room so fast, he appeared as little more than a brown blur. Slowing himself only slightly, he hopped onto my unmade bed and pounced on my pillow, hopping up and down on his front paws. “It’s morning. Can we go now? Reo-reow!”

And he was off like a shot once again.

I glanced toward the window, which hung dark without even the slightest hint of sunlight yet peeking through. We had planned on being up early, but…

A quick check of my phone confirmed that it was hardly past four AM. The plan had been to set out at six…

Oh, well.

There really was no point bemoaning my lost sleep, nor was there any sense in trying to nab any additional shuteye before we headed out. Octo-Cat was simply too excited to accept any kind of delay.

I got dressed quickly, choosing a pair of blue polka-dot sweatpants and a T-shirt featuring a cartoon cat with his face pressed through a slice of white bread. The first time I’d worn it, Octo-Cat had insisted that the pun on “purebred” not only didn’t make sense but was also offensive. Considering his past reaction to the harmless T, today seemed the perfect day to wear it. Not only would it help me stay comfortable during the long drive, but it would also enable me to exact a modicum of revenge for the early wake-up call. I smiled to myself as I swept my hair back into a messy bun and smeared Chapstick over said smile.

When I padded downstairs lugging my haphazardly packed suitcase behind me, I found Nan up and full of pep. She held out a shiny metallic travel mug, which I graciously accepted.

As I took my first glorious sip, Paisley ran into the room, singing, “Oh, what a beautiful day for an adventure!”

She yipped when she saw me, stood on her hind legs, and placed her front paws just below my knee—her signal that she wanted to be picked up.

I lowered my mug and took in the sight of her for the first time that morning. “Nan,” I cried in shock. “What have you done to her?”

“That’s her travel look. Don’t you like it?” My grandmother patted the swirly pink scarf on her own head. It matched the one wrapped around the Chihuahua’s neck perfectly. A paisley print, I realized.

On top of that, Paisley the dog also wore a pair of hot pink goggles—to help with wind-burn Nan later explained, which I guessed meant we’d be driving with the windows down for at least part of the trip. Octo-Cat would love that.

And, sure enough, after we all piled into the car—Nan in the passenger’s seat, me driving, and the pets and luggage crammed into the sports coupe’s tiny back seat—my grandmother immediately rolled down both windows.

“I should have sprung for the convertible when I had the chance,” Nan remarked, much to the horror of Octo-Cat, who’d finally shaken off his zoomies and was now back to his usual crabby self.

“Are you sure we can’t take my car?” I asked one last time while waiting for the engine to warm up a bit.

Nan turned to me, aghast. “Of course not. What’s the point in having a nice car if you never use it?”

Well, I wasn’t the one with the fancy sports car, but we would be sharing shifts, so I let that go. Our goal was to drive straight through to Colorado by alternating driving and sleeping shifts and consuming lots and lots of caffeine. I’d have preferred to actually stop at a motel for some rest along the way, but once Nan suggested making the trip a straight shot, Octo-Cat refused to have it any other way.

Tired but determined, I transitioned to drive.

Paisley let out a happy bark from right behind me, returning to her earlier song with even more volume than before. Frigid morning air rushed into the car as we picked up speed, and Paisley leaped over the center console, then scrambled onto Nan’s lap, using that extra bit of height to stick her goggled face out the window.

“See,” Nan clucked. “And you thought the goggles were too much.”

“Can we please close the window and turn on the sun now?” my cat moaned. He’d never liked car trips, but at least now he could take them without needing to keep his claws dug firmly into my thighs for added comfort—his, obviously, not mine.

“You woke us all up two hours early. It’s going to be dark for a while,” I reasoned.

“Dark, fine. But does it need to be so cold?” I glanced at him in the rear-view mirror and found his unhappy amber eyes boring into mine.

Paisley let out another excited yip in response.

“Maybe we can take turns with the window the same way we’re doing for the driving,” I offered with a small shrug, willing myself to focus on the road ahead of me and not at the angry animal behind me.

Then something strange happened. In fact, if I hadn’t been there myself, I never would have believed in.

Octo-Cat laughed. He actually laughed!

“The important thing is we reach my dear Grizabella as quickly as possible,” he said with a blissful sigh.

“Yeah,” I answered with a smile, hardly believing how reasonable he was being.

“Now drive faster please,” he commanded in a perfectly pleasant way.

I checked my speedometer and shook my head. “I’m already a few miles above the speed limit. Sorry.”

“Why sorry? You and I both know this car can go a lot faster.”

A quick look in the rear-view mirror revealed he was being perfectly serious, and if I didn’t comply with his demands, he’d start nagging at me again. I groaned and pressed down on the accelerator with a slight bit of added pressure before easing back again.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a long, long drive.