What a Day!
By: Heidi L. Lane
May 2003
Martin sighed heavily as he walked through the door of his apartment and tossed his keys into the basket by the door. He felt something brush his leg and looked down. “Hey, Sammy,” he greeted his roommate.
“Me,” the little fellow replied.
“You’re hungry, mm?” Martin glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and picked up his little friend. “I’m home late again, aren’t I?”
“Mm,” the cat chirped in agreement. Setting Sammy on the counter, Martin reached into a cabinet and pulled out a packet of food for his companion. He ripped it open then crouched down to dump it into the bowl on the floor. There was a loud thump as Sammy jumped off the counter. Soon he was noisily eating the morsels in his bowl.
Martin shook his head, “For something so small, you make a lot of noise,” he said getting a pot and frying pan out of another cabinet. After sitting them on the stove, the pot full of water to boil, he opened the refrigerator. “Mm… let’s see. We have pork, chicken… leftovers. So…chicken… a little broccoli and carrots. What do you think, Sammy, rice or pasta?” he asked as the cat padded over to peer into the refrigerator.
“Ow,” Sammy replied.
“Pasta it is,” Martin said pulling out a box of macaroni. “I had a heck of a day at work,” he stated, chopping up the carrots and dropping them into the pan with the chicken and broccoli. “Spaulding got off. We kinda knew that was gonna happen. And Jack’s right.”
“Hmm?” Sammy asked.
“He basically said that the kid being safe is all that matters; it’s our job to find people and the court’s job to put the ‘bad guys’ away, or not. Life’s a lot simpler for cats, isn’t it?” Martin asked, pouring the pasta into the boiling water.
“Mm.” Sammy agreed, batting at his shoelace.
“Especially when you aren’t even a year old yet. All you do is eat, sleep, cuddle with me and play with your toys – or whatever else you can find. I have to worry about finding girls who’ve been missing since January and keeping pedophiles off the streets.” Shaking his head, Martin gave the contents of the pan a stir. “Let’s see… wine or beer?”
“Ah,” Sammy admonished.
“Don’t you start; after the past couple of days I need a little something to help me unwind. Chardonnay would be good right about now…” Martin walked over to the far counter and picked up the bottle he kept there. Pouring himself a glass he said, “Don’t worry Sammy, I’ll save it to have with dinner. Would you like to hear what’s got me so out of sorts?”
“Eh,” the feline replied, settling down on a cushion near the kitchen window.
“Okay then… Jack was getting reviewed about his handling of the Samir case… I told you about that already. Anyway, I went to my father and asked if it was his doing. He basically said it was, but because he was protecting me. I really messed up on that one. So then I was feeling guilty, because my mistake might end up costing Jack his career.” The cat remained silent through his explanation, so Martin continued. “Then I go and testify that Spaulding never asked for an attorney, not to my knowledge. The defense calls this cop to the stand and he says that he’d called me on my cell and told me.” Martin shook his head in frustration and stirred the pasta.
“Mm?” Sammy asked.
“No, actually Jack had answered my cell when I was out of the room,” Martin explained, “The cop told him, but thought he’d told me. Made it look like I’d perjured myself. So, my friend, I think that I’m entitled to one glass of wine.” He glanced at the pan and checked the pasta. Smiling, he said, “This is done. Now I can eat my dinner.” He drained the pasta and put it in a bowl, topping it off with the chicken and vegetables. He walked over to the stereo, setting his bowl on an end table and holding up two CD’s he said, “So we pop on a little music. Bach or Vivaldi, Sammy?”
The cat sneezed in reply.
“Bach it is.” Martin put his CD on and settling into a comfortable chair, picked up the glass of wine. Slipping off his dress shoes he took a sip. Leaning back and half-closing his eyes, Martin rolled the wine around in his mouth before swallowing. Sammy waited until he’d picked up his bowl, and then jumped lightly into his lap. The young cat kneaded the fabric of Martin’s pants for a while before settling down to be petted as Martin ate his supper. “I love cats,” Martin said softly, regarding the small creature half-asleep in his lap. “The only animal that likes the good life as much as me.”
END