Black Cat

Black Cat-3

I was woken from my delightfully warm and unusually furry nap by a knocking at my door. When I moved shifting Balto off of my arm, which he had pinned to the bed, he let out this weak pathetic mew. Similar to the one that had caught my attention this afternoon; I gently pet his head and pulled the covers back off of us releasing our combined warmth into my room.

“Belle, you in there?” My father called through the door.

Sleepily I rubbed my eyes trying to clear the sleep blur from them, “Uh, yeah yeah. I’m here give me a second would you” I muttered pushing up and walking over to the door.

I opened my bedroom door leaning in against it as I yawned widely; my Father chuckled and pushed the door open wider making me stumble backwards. Balto hissed and both my dad and I turned to look at the fiery little ball of fur on my bed.

“What the hell is that?” My dad snapped at me pointing towards Balto.

“That is a cat” I said placing my hands on my hips, “A very moody cat, named Balto” I sighed shaking my head.

Silence filled the room as Balto and my Dad began the staring contest their eyes locked trying to break the other. I could see it was going nowhere and fast, so I stepped between them waving my hands above my head.

“I got him from the shelter, they were going to euthanize him. I asked the lady working there if I could take him and she said sure. I paid thirty dollars for the adoption fee and left. He’s got all his shots, he’s healthy and I think he likes it here” I said running my hand through my short black hair.

It came down to about chin level it was longer at the back than at the front, mostly because I hated the tickling sensation hair had on my jaw.

I looked more like my father than my mother, like him I was broad shouldered apparently, built for sports. But I bruised like a peach on a hot day, I had his heart shaped face and neat lined teeth, with sharp canines and matching incisors. All through middle school people thought I was a vampire or something, it really irritated me.

I wasn’t pale, but I wasn’t tan. More of olive or ashen coloured skin really. I had a line of freckles that crossed over my nose when I stayed in the sun to long. I was thin without being frail and everything on me was muscle, I wasn’t a stick or fragile princess. I could hold my own. I stood about 5’ 4” I was freaking short compared to a lot of people apparently.

I had dark blue green eyes like the ocean just before a storm. I liked my eyes they were just about the only feature about my body I liked. When most girls at my school are dressing it up and flashing skin and boobs, I went for the baggy sweaters and boot cut blue jeans.

I used to be on track until I got into high school, and that’s when my insecurity really broke out. I was what they called a late bloomer.

That was just nice councillor talk for, I had a small chest and no acne. I could live with the latter, it was the small chest thing I didn’t like so much. When the biggest accomplishment of my summer was finding out I could fit into a B cup… well then it sort of crushes any dreams of ever dressing as Jessica Rabbit for Halloween.

My father was like me, black hair, long hadn’t been cut since he was like twenty because he’s a bad-ass hippy who’s still ‘Sticking-it-to-the-man’. He was in his late forties now and his hair was more salt and pepper than black.

He had a little beard that suited his rather round heart shaped face. He on the other hand stood just an inch or so over 6 foot. I was my mother’s height but smaller… Thank you genetics for screwing the pooch.

“So you paid for him?” He asked more cautiously.

I nodded my head, “Yup, sure did. Balto is now mine”