Cub

They walked up the steps arm in arm, grocery bags balanced evenly on their outer arms, laughing and giggling.  They truly were newlyweds at heart, even though they’d already been married for years.

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“So I’ll chop, you cook?” Monty asked

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“Hmmm... I don’t know, I’m kind of in the mood to each charcoal, why don’t you cook tonight?” Nat teased

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“Very funny missy, if I had a free hand I would-

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“Honey, SHHHH!”

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“What? Ms. Launingham is half deaf, she won’t hear us!” He said with a wink

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Nat rolled her eyes.  “Cute, but not what I meant, Listen”

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Monty’s eyebrows shot up.  “Is that...?”

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Nat nodded “I think so.”

They gently set the grocery’s down, and listened intently to see if they could ascertain where the sound was coming from.

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“Is it...” Nat wondered

“Yeah, under the steps.” Monty finished

Nat and Monty were laying face down in the dirt, trying to get the orphaned kitten that had somehow ended up under their back porch.  He was scared and hungry, and wanted no part of them at the moment.  

“All-right, farm girl, what do we do?” Monty asked.

Nat had to belly crawl into the tiny space in order to grab the kitten.  He hissed, and cried, and tried to scratch. Once she had ahold of him, she gently stroked him with her thumb.

“It’s ok little guy, we won’t hurt ya” she cooed.

“Big fight for such a little guy!” Monty said

Natalie was trying unsuccessfully to backwards belly crawl her way out, but her hands were full of fighting kitty.  Monty couldn’t help laughing at Nat’s struggle.  She had to use her elbows, but she was finally able to get herself and the kitten out.  When she stood up, holding squirming kitty in both hands, Monty laughed even harder.

“What the hell do you think is so damn funny?”  

“You, are covered in dirt!  Did you rub your face in it?” She glared at him playfully.

“Just for that...” she said opening the pouch pocket of his blue cubs sweatshirt, and putting the kitten inside, who seemed to be instantly subdued. “You’re the mama!”

“I’m not a mama! I’m a papa!” he protested

She hooked one finger inside his pocket, and lifted it slightly to make her point, eliciting a mew of protest from the baby inside.

“Kangaroo pouch makes mama, not papa.  You bond with your new baby, mama, and I’ll run back to the store and get some goat milk and an eye dropper.” He stared at her blankly like he had absolutely no idea what she had just said.

“okaayy...let’s try that again.  You keep kitty  in your pocket, where he feels safe, and gets to know your scent.  While I run to the store, and get goat milk, easily digested by all babies, and an eye dropper, so we can actually feed him.”

Monty stood up straight, kitty bouncing in his pocket, and saluted.  

“Yes ma’am, Sergeant farmer girl!” Nat rolled her eyes, and started to turn towards the car. “Babe, wait.” he said.  Nat turned back around to face him.  He walked up close to her, pocket full of kitty between them.  He gently brushed the dirt off her face with the back of his hand, and kissed her. “I love you.” he whispered.  Nat smiled “Love you too.  Take care of your new baby while I’m gone, mama.” She winked at him and turned to leave.

Over the next several weeks, the still unnamed kitty bonded with his new “mama”.  Nat showed Monty how to feed the kitty, how to litter train the kitty, and how to make a safe play area for him so he couldn’t get into too much trouble. Kitty decided that Monty’s cubs sweatshirt was home, wherever the sweatshirt was, so was kitty.  If Monty had the sweatshirt on, kitty crawled back in the pocket, if the sweatshirt was lying around the house, kitty was in, on, or under the sweatshirt.  He even made a habit of  climbing up the wicker hamper to get to the sweatshirt inside.  When the once palm sized kitty got too big to fit in the pocket, he liked to hang out in the hood while Monty was wandering around the house.

Nat was making dinner, and Monty was hanging out in the kitchen pretending to help, when kitty decided he wanted in the hood, and proceeded to climb up Monty’s leg to get there.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!” Monty cried impatiently, as he bent down to pluck the kitten from his jeans, and put him in the hood.

“I think you should just give him that sweatshirt, it’s really his now, anyways.”

“But it’s my favorite sweatshirt!” Monty whined.

“Honey.” Nat said patiently, as if addressing a child. “You know I love you, but that sweatshirt is 100 years old, and full of holes.  It’s time to give it to the cat.  Who, by the way, still needs a name. Poor thing, we can’t call him Kitty forever!”

“Fine.” Monty pouted. “And, I know he needs a name, but nothing seems to fit. He’s just him...”

“He’ll let you know when it’s right.” She smiled. “Ok, looks like dinner’s ready, let’s eat! I’m starving!”

Monty safely deposited both kitty, and tearfully, the sweatshirt as well, into the play area.  The couple sat down to eat dinner, and tell interesting tidbits from their day.  They ate one handed, as they always did, so they could hold hands under the table, a sweet routine from their dating days that never seemed to fade with time.  That was what really made them work.

They were clearing away the dishes after dinner, when Nat gestured with her chin, to the sleeping kitty in the play area.  Monty looked over to see the kitten curled up perfectly inside the Cubs logo on the sweatshirt.  He made his own fuzzy black and white “C” inside the circle.

“You know..” Monty said “Maybe we should just call him Cub.”

Nat smiled sweetly, and nodded.  

“I think that’s the perfect name, mama.”