Like Cats and Dogs, Kate McMurray [miss read books .TXT] 📗

right for themselves. Lauren silently thanked the charity of eccentric older ladies with money to burn for her apartment.

Lauren recognized belatedly that there was an invitation in Caleb’s voice; he was asking her to walk home with him. Did she want to do that? Something about having to actually go somewhere gave the moment more importance.

“Well,” said Caleb. “Maybe I should go.”

“Finish your coffee, at least.”

He smiled.

They sat in companionable silence for a minute. Searching for something to talk about, Lauren said, “So, Boston, right? That’s where you lived before you moved here?”

“Yeah, my ex and I had a clinic in Back Bay. Do you know Boston at all?”

“I went there once to visit a friend from college. Her husband has a very park-the-car-in-Harvard-Yard accent.” She affected the best Boston accent she could.

Caleb chuckled. “As a New Englander, I should be offended by that, but we had some clients who spoke like they just walked off the set of The Departed.”

“You don’t have an accent.”

“Believe me, I put some work into that. It comes back when I’m home. But if you’re ever in Portland, I can tell you all the best places to get a lobster roll.”

He’d turned his accent on—“lobstah roll”—which made Lauren laugh. “Do you go up there much?”

“Not as much as I’d like. My ex got the car in the divorce, too, in that she literally drove off in it when she left town.”

“So she got the car and the dog. What did you get in the divorce?”

He sighed and looked away, probably not super willing to talk about it. “I got a slightly larger percent of the clinic sale, basically. Her lawyer was a real shark, though.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s all right.” Caleb rubbed his forehead.

Lauren knew better than to push him into talking about it, so she said, “What other Boston movies are there? Good Will Hunting?”

Caleb offered her an indulgent smile, like he knew what she was doing. “I remember really liking that movie, but I haven’t seen it in years. I had a buddy in college who went to the same high school as Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, although a few years later obviously, and he was really proud of that fact.”

“Well, I went to the same high school as Guy Fieri, so take that.”

“Who’s Guy Fieri?”

“He’s that Food Network guy with the bleached hair and the goatee who wants to take you to Flavortown.”

Caleb laughed. “Oh, sure, that guy. Where are you from again?”

“Columbus.”

“Right, okay. Well, my high school produced no one very famous. A second-tier NFL linebacker, a soap actress, the drummer for a punk band that had one hit in 1982, but otherwise no one of note.”

“Except you!”

“I’m hardly famous.”

“No, but you are successful.” Lauren grinned. “I went to my ten-year reunion last year, and my main goal was to show how cool and successful I am out here in New York City. I had just gotten hired at the Cat Café, so I was all, ‘I manage a business and I live in Brooklyn, how cool am I?’”

“How did that go over?”

“My former classmates were way impressed with the fact that I lived in New York City and kept telling me that my life must have been very glamorous or very dangerous. Although I think most people were like, ‘Wait, who are you again?’”

Caleb nodded. “I didn’t go to my ten-year reunion. And my graduating class only had sixty students, so I definitely knew everyone.”

“Small high school.”

“Small town.” Caleb looked around the room. “So your classmates were not impressed by your glamorous life as a cat café manager?”

“Well. Some were.” Lauren watched Caleb look around, trying to interpret the look on his face. “You don’t take this very seriously, do you?” she asked.

“What, the Cat Café? Whatever you’re doing seems to be working. This place is always busy when I walk by.”

“You’re a vet. You know people find petting animals soothing. The cats here are all pretty docile and friendly. After all, we send the hard-luck cases to you.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Olivia and I had to neuter a couple of feral cats yesterday. One of them was real nasty when he came out of anesthesia. I was worried he’d scratch my eyes out.”

“Yeah, the ferals can be mean. I assume Mitch will bring those back to the colony behind the Brooklyn Museum.”

“So that’s an official colony, huh?”

“Yeah. They mostly stay away during the day, but they hang out in the parking lot at night. The museum thinks they are kind of a menace, but it’s really the safest way to control the feral population in Brooklyn. They can’t be in homes, and we can’t just euthanize them, at least I wouldn’t be able to. So Mitch—he’s the guy who brought me the kittens—he runs an organization that traps and tags the cats. They spay or neuter any they find that are untagged then release them back to the colony. And still, new cats sneak in all the time.”

“Are feral cats a problem in Brooklyn?”

“They are. Monique lives in Prospect Lefferts Gardens, and she says there are feral cats all over, and they are real bold. They go through her trash at night, like raccoons.” Lauren sighed. She assumed Brooklyn’s feral cat population included strays, cats that escaped, or cats that were abandoned by their owners. There were several no-kill shelters in Brooklyn, and there were veterinary clinics and places like the Cat Café that would take in house cats if people couldn’t care for them anymore. Those cats could have better lives in new homes rather than being turned out on the street. It broke Lauren’s heart to think about.

“Were you this passionate about cats before you worked here?” Caleb asked.

Lauren tried not to hear the mild disdain in his tone. “Sure, I’ve always been a cat person. I’ve gotten more involved in the pet communities here since coming to manage this place, though. I know people at all the shelters, I