People do that when they want certainty.
But Nacho was not giving us an answer.
He was simply being a cat.
He wanted warmth.
He wanted familiar hands.
He wanted the room to be quiet.
Maybe that should have been enough.
Marcus and Lily stayed for an hour.
Before they left, Lily folded the blue blanket.
Nacho was still lying on it.
She hesitated.
“You can leave it,” I said.
Her face changed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She left the cloth mouse too.
At the door, Marcus handed me an envelope.
Inside were copies of Nacho’s medical records and a list of things he liked.
He sleeps near a fan but hates strong wind.
He drinks from a wide bowl.
He gets scared when keys drop on the floor.
He will not eat chicken-flavored treats.
When he is afraid, sit sideways and look away.
Do not pull him out of hiding.
He likes the old blanket better than any bed.
At the bottom, Lily had written:
Please tell him I did not stop looking.
I waited until they drove away before I cried.
For the next week, I followed their list.
Every small detail helped him settle.
I hated how much I needed what they knew.
Then I hated myself for feeling that way.
Love is not always gentle inside the person doing it. Sometimes it is jealous. Sometimes it keeps score.
One evening, I found Nacho sitting in front of the closed front door.
The blue blanket was behind him.
He looked back at me and meowed.
I opened the door a few inches, keeping one hand around his chest.
He sniffed the air.
Then he looked toward the street.
For a terrible second, I thought he wanted to leave.
I shut the door.
That night, I dreamed the house was full of doors.
Every time I closed one, another opened.
Nacho kept walking through them.
I ran after him until I could not remember which home was mine.
On Sunday, I invited them back.
I told myself it was for Nacho.
It was also for me.
I needed to see whether the first visit had been unusual.
It was not.
Nacho met Lily at the door.
He did not leap into her arms.
He rubbed once against her ankle and then returned to me.
She sat on the floor and played the piano song from her phone.
He lay between us.
Marcus brought a bag of his old food, but did not push it toward me.
He placed it by the wall.
“We can help with the clinic costs,” he said.
“I don’t need money.”
“That is not what I meant.”
