The Writer Acts as a Liaison

I placed Scooter down on my lap, and made him sit. Slowly, I rubbed the area between his eyes and behind his ears, and Scooter was soon half – asleep, contentedly leaning on his left side.

When I heard him starting to purr, my face split into a grin.

I turned my head ninety degrees, just enough to face Raine without being in ‘dangerous territory’ zone.

“Be quiet…” I said, and took his hand by the wrist.

He looked a little shocked that I had actually touched him, but the surprise eventually faded from his face.

“Don’t be scared,” I whispered, “mammals can smell fear, and they won’t let you near them if you’re afraid of them.”

“I’m not scared of a tiny cat!” he protested, but I yanked his hand back.

“I said: ‘be quiet’, didn’t I? So be quiet.”

Gently, as to not disturb Scooter in his daze, I guided Raine’s hand over to Scooter’s head. and whilst deviously masking Raine’s scent with mine (think like the cat!), Scooter allowed Raine to pet him.

“It’s so … soft.”

I laughed at him.

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