Jacob moved carefully, wary of the many improbably perched ornaments that decorated the house.
“Over here,” called Angela, her voice seemingly distant. It was no real help, but the corridor had only one way out that didn’t seem to be covered in years of dust. Jacob stepped into the brightest room in the house, a window letting in the rays of dusk.
“See? He’s still alive,” said Angela. The kitten in her hand looked bedraggled, but it was breathing, its tiny chest rising and falling rythmically.
“Just barely. How’d you find him?” Jacob asked, examining the kitten with the practised care of a professional.
“I saw his mum limping out of the house, and just out of curiosity followed the trail through the house…”
“So curiosity actually saved the cat this time,” Jacob said, smirking. Angela fixed him with a withering look. Jacob looked around. “Cats usually have more than one kitten per litter, though…”
“Yeah, I know,” she said.
“Oh, right. Well…” Jacob said, backpeddaling. Angela was a sentimental one.
“I figured you were a vet,” Angela began.
“Ha ha. Anyway, you should know what do with him.” Angela finished, hopefully.
“Well I think he’s actually a she, but we should be able to see to it. I’ll keep her for a week, but after that… well, I could always give her to one of the pet shops.”
“Oh… can’t I keep him? I mean, her?” Angela asked, almost pleading.
“Hmm, you might have to do a lot of taking care of her. She is only a day old right now, and even in a week she’ll need near-constant attention. Are you sure you want to?”
“It’s not like I have anything else to do, other than maybe start looking for a job again…” Angela looked at the kitten, its eyes tightly shut like all babies, peacefully asleep. Its starkly white fur glowed orange at the edges in the dusk light.
“I’ll call her Snow,” she said.