A Cat Named Cupid

Sometimes love gets help in the strangest ways

~~~~>

Author's Note: I did something a little different with this story. Please consider each double: * * * as a character point of view change, and each single: * * * * * as my typical time shift alert. I hope you enjoy my little tale for the Valentine's Day Contest. As always, much love to all of you. JKD

~~~~>

"Dammit Cupid! Stop the caterwauling and get off me! Your food bowl will get filled when I get up." Steven Granville paused to shake his head and sigh before completing his chastising with, "Just the same way it always does."

Even though he had used a somewhat shrill tone with the pudgy Maine Coon sitting on his chest, he also immediately started scratching the cat's ears. This same scenario and similar one-sided discussion happened almost every Saturday and Sunday morning when he attempted to sleep in much beyond his normal weekday wake up time of 6:30.

As he increased the loving attention given to his furry roommate, Steven finished the cat's scolding with a softer voice. "I really don't enjoy having you pawing my nose and lips like some kind of animated snooze alarm. Just because you haven't eaten in all of two hours, doesn't mean you will die of starvation, buddy."

* * *

* * *

Cupid flopped to his side and purred approval at having attention paid to him even though the desired instant gratification of a fresh serving of Meow Mix he had originally been seeking was being delayed. As Steven's hand began to rub him more intensely, he shifted slightly and began using his front paws to knead at the thick carpeting of brown chest hair on his sole staff human.

And that is what he was. Staff. Here to serve him. At his beck and call. None of that asinine subservient, dog-type, 'owner' bullshit. He was a feline and as such, was to be treated as a God. 'Dogs have owners, cats have staff ' was the pecking order he instinctively understood and worked so hard to establish and nurture as soon as possible when he was moved into the apartment nearly two years ago. He was only a year old then, but had already learned how life as a cat was supposed to be once you let humans take you in.

There had been another human at first. The one who had found him at the Humane Society of the Ohio Valley and brought him to this place. But the one Steven had called Ezra had left one day and never came back. There had been lots of loud voices, and yelling, and things being thrown right before that. They didn't tackle each other and roll around scratching and biting and clawing at one another, but Cupid was certain it was a basic human form of fighting. Just without getting physical like so many of their kind could and would. Kind of like his species bared their teeth, inflated their tails, and hissed at each other until one gives up or things got really serious.

Steven was very sad for a long time after Ezra left in spite of him spending more time in his lap and curling up with him to sleep like the other human had done. He didn't understand, but he knew he had to replace the Ezra one. At least temporarily. But he was certain there would eventually be another human needed since he wouldn't be able to do that funny wrestling in bed thing they seemed to like so much.

* * *

* * *

"There. Are you happy now, fur face?" Steven sarcastically questioned as he finished adding some fresh dry food to what was already sitting in Cupid's bowl.

The only answer he received back was a couple of tail flips while the cat nibbled up only a few pieces and then sauntered over to the rear door of the apartment on the other side of the kitchen. It was if he was saying: 'I just wanted to make sure you did your duty. I'll eat the rest later.' The turned head and twitching whiskers Steven got from Cupid next was easily translated to: 'You may now open the door for me so I can go do my business and explore.'

After Steven complied and as he watched the cat trot across the threshold, he verbalized a couple of thoughts as much to himself as to the departing animal. "Ya know Cupid, I really am beginning to wonder who owns whom here," and "It snowed a little last night, so I know you won't be disappearing half the day like you usually do. Meow real loud when you want back in because I'm not standing here just waiting for you."

The instructions only got him another set of tail flutters as the big cat gracefully slipped under the gap at the bottom of the wooden gate that was in the privacy fence that enclosed his small patio.

* * *

* * *

'I'll be back when I get back,' was the message Cupid intended to send with his flickering tail. 'I have places to be and other humans to see and train. I know my food bowl is full at home...now to see what better food and treats I can score at the other apartments around the complex is my mission. Perhaps I shall start with the wrinkled, short and pudgy, lady human with the blue hair across the parking lot. She gave me tuna juice last time.'

He quickly looked up and down the parking lot surveying the multiple buildings in the complex, intending to review his other options. But between the fresh inch of snow making his foot pads cold, and the more-than-chilly twenty-eight-degree temperature doing the same to the rest of him, he informed himself the decision was already made. 'Too damn cold to play the field. Miss Blue Hair wins by weather default today,' went through his mind as he quickly strutted to her door. 'I'll have to listen to her babbling on and on about those little humans she calls grand-somethings, and have to put up with her holding me in her lap forever and petting me until I think my hair is going to fall out. But if it gets me tuna juice for breakfast, I can cope.'

With the negatives put aside in his mind, Cupid plopped his butt down on the few square inches of her stoop that wasn't covered in the fresh dusting of snow and meowed as loud as he could. It was the feline version of the thing the humans called doorbells.

* * *

* * *

Andy Newman was sitting on his sofa, working his way through the third cup of coffee since he had gotten up an hour ago, when he heard the first meow. The noise instantly brought back memories of the cat he had to bury just a few weeks before he moved to this new apartment nearly two months ago. He had had Mittens since he got her as a kitten when he was in sixth grade. Since he was staring at turning thirty in another three months, she had obviously lived a full, long life.

But he missed her terribly. The big orange tabby with four white feet had been his best friend all through the traumatic years puberty and getting through adolescence had been for him. He doubted if he would have survived his coming-of-age years in high school had it not been for her. She had been the one he told all his secrets to...especially when the attraction to other guys became so strong and he realized it wasn't a phase, but rather was ingrained in his genes and soul. Mittens knew long before anyone else that he was gay because she was the only one he felt safe in telling. Marietta was a really nice town, but it wasn't exactly San Francisco either. Or even Columbus. Size wise or in liberal attitudes.

He needed her now if for no other reason than to hold and stroke her while talking about how hitting the big three-ooh soon was messing with his mind. It wasn't the milestone age change of crossing over into his thirties itself that was bothering him; he knew and accepted getting older was just a part of life. It was the 'alone' part. He didn't want to end up down the road, gray and retired, and still without anyone to truly share his life and bed with. With Valentine's Day only four weeks off, his heart, mind, and soul...and all the excessive commercialization of the holiday...were constantly reminding him just how alone he was.

Suddenly the reminiscing about Mittens and the depressing thoughts about himself were interrupted by another much longer and louder set of cat cries from outside.

* * *

* * *

'Come on Blue Hair. Answer the damn door. It's cold as hell out here,' went through Cupid's head while waiting for the door to open after letting loose with his second wailed-out meows announcing he had come to visit. Even with his extra pounds and thick coat of fur, he was beginning to shiver and wanting inside. 'One more try and then I'm going back to my human,' he told himself just before he belted out a cacophony of pitiful and extra loud mews.

* * *

* * *

Steven poured himself one more cup of coffee and planted himself on the couch in his living room. A quick thumb press to the remote control brought the oversized flat screen TV to instant life and he began to surf the hundred plus channels for anything at all worth watching on a Saturday morning. As he began the second tour of the options, he rolled his eyes and complained to the ceiling with, "Even the fucking cartoons are a joke anymore. Not like back when we had Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner and Scooby Doo to entertain us as kids." The comment to himself caused a grimace to appear on his face, as it had reminded him that he had yet another birthday coming up on February 14th...his forty-first one.

That reminder triggered several more memories not related to old television shows. The first was about how he and Ezra had met and ended up together eight years earlier. A mutual friend had invited them both to an end-of-summer boating party and BBQ. Living in a town built at the confluence of the Ohio and Muskingum Rivers pretty much guaranteed you became an aficionado of one type or another of water-based activity whether it be fishing, pleasure boating, water skiing, or swimming. There was also the more passive activities to hook you, such as just walking the endless miles of riverfront parks and walking and biking trails, watching the Marietta College crew teams compete against the rowing teams from Harvard and Yale, and attending the city's annual Sternwheel Festival or professional powerboat races.

But on that day...once Steven had seen Ezra's nine year younger, well-defined body in a pair of Speedos that left very little to the imagination...he had only one interest in water the rest of the day: Convincing this cutie to come home with him after the party and try tandem surfing in his California King waterbed. Steven had been blessed with great genes and back then, even at the age of thirty-three, still had the looks that not only got him attention easily, but also assured him his choice from a wide variety of potential sexual partners. The idea of settling down into a relationship was almost foreign to him and rarely entered his mind. How Ezra destroyed that attitude their first night in bed became memory number two that resurfaced. He closed his eyes and it played so clearly again in his mind, it was as if he had time traveled backwards and was actually reliving each moment.

It was during the second afterglow resulting from incredibly passionate sex when Ezra had asked about going out together the next night. 'Just dinner or maybe a movie,' was how he prefaced the suggestion of a date.

Steven had fairly bluntly replied with, "I'm not interested in dating." He instantly realized how cold the words came across. "Don't take that wrong. I'm just not looking for anything serious," had been the attempt at sounding less crass.

"So I'm just another notch on the playa's bed post?"

"Well that's not exactly what I meant. I just don't want to be tied down or lead you on that I am looking for something permanent."

"Which is another way of saying you are a player. You want to ignore any possible emotional entanglements in exchange for being able to be the tomcat that roams all the alleys, takes what he wants, empties his balls, and moves on to the next conquest."

"Don't make it sound like I'm completely unfeeling and that you were just a slab of meat, Ezra."

"Whatever you say...Bart."

"Who the fuck is Bart?"

"Lemme guess...you've never seen the old classic gay movie 'Making Love' have you?"

"Um, no. Why?" Steven questioned.

"Because Bart was you. Way too good looking and in shape for his age and still able to score at will usually. Why would a relationship have any interest for you when you can get the perks without having to invest anything but your nuts, your talented lips, and some great hip rhythm. Bart was the same way in the movie. And about the same age too."

"Don't be psychoanalyzing me, dude. I'm just not the type of guy that wants to start planning a wedding after two orgasms."

"Neither do I, Steven. But this is where the movie comes into play. Well, at least a line or two in it. Bart starts the same type of vacillating after a hook up. The guy is really interested in exploring something more, and Bart totally blows off the idea. And Zach...the guy he just got it on with...bluntly tells him: 'You know. You aren't always going to be the looker and have that frat boy body. There will be a point where you don't get to pick who you take home from the bar. There will be a point where you don't even turn a head under the age of sixty when you walk in. Then you are going to want more and not be able to find it.' Don't be another Bart, Steven. You have so much more potential."

As the memory movie in his head faded to black, Steven reopened his eyes. They were moist. Ezra had nailed it perfectly and it had changed his life when they started dating and eventually moved in together. The hot little college boy that had made his cock so hard, had completely softened his heart and got him to open up his most internalized emotions. He became complete with, and thanks to, Ezra.

But the "seven year itch" struck right on cue, and Ezra not only had an affair, but claimed he had fallen in love and left him for a twink barely old enough to be able to buy cigarettes or beer. All of twenty-one and a couple of weeks...maybe. Despite his protestations otherwise, Steven was convinced Ezra's midlife crisis came fifteen years early and the more than seven year history they had went down the shitter in one quick flush.

Fortunately, before his mind could play any more games with him, Steven discovered the SyFy Channel was running a special marathon of reruns from their old 'MST3K' hit show and he settled in to concentrate on it instead of his dismal emotions. Even the mindless absurdity of 'Plan 9 from Outer Space' was preferential to the bitter cold weather outside his apartment or the chill of the emptiness he felt in his chest where his heart should be. He knew it was from constantly reminding himself that he would soon be turning forty-one years old. Old fartdom in the gay world. Forty-one and alone.

* * *

* * *

Andy couldn't see the source of the unusual meowing through either the apartment door peephole; nor by doing the 'Gladys Kravitz snoopy neighbor' impression and pulling aside just the edge of the drapes on the living room window. It wasn't an 'in pain' or 'ready to fight' cry. Didn't seem like the noises a lost kitten would make, or even a big tom vocally celebrating finding a willing female in heat either. He had learned all those distinctive variations of cat voices and meanings from all the years with his Mittens. No, this was something completely different. Almost a personalized greeting of some type. Whatever the motive behind the cries, he had to check it out to be sure it wasn't a cat in some kind of distress. Gritting his teeth at what he knew would be the coming blast of sub-freezing temperatures, he turned the knob and tugged the heavy metal door open.

* * *

* * *

Cupid was just about to take off back to his own warm abode and human when the door opened only a few extra feet from where he sat shivering. The human that stepped out reminded him a little of Ezra, but a little taller...and with much darker hair and complexion...and not fat, but definitely chubbier than the human that had abandoned him and Steven. The soft voice and familiar words he used to call out to him with, said he probably had experience around Cupid's kind. When he squatted down and did the 'Here kitty, kitty, kitty,' thing along with the 'You can trust me' hand motions, Cupid decided he had a new person he needed to get to know. Right now to get instantly out of the weather, but also for future reference as to whether this guy was another easy mark to score treats. Before the new human was halfway through the second set of soothing and inviting words, Cupid was brushing past him to the sanctity of the warm living room.

* * *

* * *

Andy looked on with amusement as the roly-poly cat shot past him and immediately helped itself to a spot on the couch where the overhead heating vent was blowing much more acceptable air directly downward than what was outside this morning. The cat's mild shaking from the cold stopped almost immediately. He shivered himself though and practically slammed the front door closed to quickly shut off the wind and arctic temperatures it brought along when it forced its way through the opening.

"So what's your name, big one?" he asked with an inviting lilt in his voice. His hand instinctively went to the cat's head and ears as he slowly lowered himself to the couch. It took less than thirty seconds of scratching with his finger nails for Andy to have the creature on its back and purring like a Harley Davidson winding out in fourth gear. "You really like that little buddy. I think we are going to be good friends," was added just as the cat shifted its head and gave him a love bite on the wrist.

"You obviously have a home.." Andy began as he moved his hand to the soft belly being exposed to him, "...this pudge says to get your three squares a day, every day. And probably more when you can con your way into it." The cat was approaching ecstasy if the constantly increasing volume of its interior motor and stomach twitches were any kind of indicators.

"Just keep that look on your face while I check you out and see if you are male or female. Don't want to be calling you 'Alice' if you are really a 'Ralph' you know." After a quick perusal, Andy announced in a jocular manner, "Nope. No balls. But that little pink tip peeking out at me says you used to have them, so until I find out differently, you are now Ralph."

* * *

* * *

'This is so much better than what dealing with old "Blue Hair" would have been. Wonder what kind of treats this human might have?' went through Cupid's head as he continued enjoying the massage and attention. 'He must have been trained by one of us at some point,' was the next thought as the human asked if he was hungry. Rolling back over, Cupid shot him a look that was both gracious and solicitous, but behind it was a smirk and comment in his brain of: 'I'm a cat! Of course I am fucking hungry!'

Just to make certain his message was understood, Cupid jumped down to the floor and went in search of the room Steven called 'the kitchen.' That was where the humans kept all the food. 'Why settle for a treat when I might be able to guilt trip my way into a full meal?' was the plan he hatched. 'Paste on the "I'm starving" look and play it like this is Broadway on opening night,' was the goal that was set.

And it must have worked, because within a few short minutes of rubbing up against every cabinet in the food room, and eking out some slightly pathetic whimpers and mews, the human was setting a can of tuna on the counter top and grabbing for the machine that was like a harp to a cat's ears...the one the humans called "a can opener."

* * *

* * *

Andy smiled when he saw the reaction of the cat when he snugged the can of Chicken of the Sea up against the blade of the can opener. The puss began what could only be described as a praise dance to the tuna gods. He laughed out loud when the cat performed a nearly Olympic level tumbling act of half somersaults in the middle of the kitchen floor while the can opener made the same patented noise every other one did when in use. That was followed with enough head rubbing against the legs of his jeans that they were now, without a doubt, marked for life no matter how much Clorox he added to the water the next time he washed them. What happened next surprised him as much as it did the feline at his feet.