Something Gets It challenge by Loz

[loz]

Title: When I was six we had this cat…
Rating: G? PG? I have difficulty with ratings.
Word Count: 950 words.
Notes: Set post CotW, this is one of many dialogues I imagine Ray and Fraser having whilst resting from journeying.



"When I was six we had this cat. It was huge, well, huge in comparison to me, I was kinda weedy as a kid y'know. Anyway, this cat, his name was Patch 'cause he was white all over save for this grey, y'know, patch, on his forehead. He used to run around the house a mile a minute and spray his scent everywhere. One day he went missing. Dad said he was probably off wooing lady cats. We found him three days later in the middle of the road. We buried him in the back garden."

Ray brushed his hand through his hair again. He gazed out of the lean-to. The white around them was a thick blanket. It looked smooth as silk, but he knew that if you touched it, it didn't feel that way. It felt more like crushed velvet. And it was damp and cold. The white covered everything. If you were going to argue about it, you'd say there really wasn't that much to cover. But there was still a lot of snow.

"That must have been upsetting," Fraser said, bowing his head slightly.

"Yeah, it was. Patch was a great cat. After Patch we got this little brown tabby called Monty. Man, she was all kinds of evil. She'd stare at you with these yellow brown eyes and if you got too close to her she'd get her claws and just stick them straight into the nearest available skin. One day she was outside and Mom was going to go shopping. She backed out without realising Monty was there. That was the first time I ever saw that much blood. We buried her in the back garden, underneath a cherry tree which died soon after."

Fraser nodded his head slowly and offered Ray some pemmican. Ray took it because he didn't know what else to do.

"So. We waited a year or so before getting a new pet, because it was too painful. I started to get really lonely so I begged and begged for another cat. We went to an animal shelter this time and got this big ball of ginger fluff that I called Chester. Chester was the best cat you could ask for. He'd purr like nothing on earth and he used to do these amazing stunts where he'd throw himself from the top of my wardrobe."

"That sounds dangerous," Fraser interjected.

"Yeah it was, but he always seemed to be okay afterwards."

"Really?"

"Ahuh. But the next door neighbour had these, uh, goldfish which they wanted us to look after, so being the neighbourly neighbours we were, we did. I don't know exactly what happened but I came home from school to see a cracked fishbowl, Chester lying on the ground with half a fish in his mouth, his eyes all glazed over and another fish by his head. We flushed the fish down the toilet, but Chester? He was buried in the back garden."

Ray continued to survey their surroundings. If there was only one thing he would take away from all of this, it would be a sense of space. He'd thought he'd known what space was before. He'd stared up at the night sky, been in the middle of a cornfield, had a painfully empty apartment. But this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was never-ending, eternal space. Fraser didn't seem to be as in awe as Ray was. He busied himself with getting another blanket.

"I was heartbroken, who wouldn't be? But I soon started lobbying for another animal to keep me company. Dad thought it would be better this time if we got a dog, so we got this tiny little mongrel who was totally insane. He'd rush after dust balls. I swear, every time I saw him dancing from paw to paw near one of those things I'd imagine him yelling 'Nobody move or the dust ball gets it!', but uh, he was a dog, so y'know, he'd yap instead. We had him for a few years, and he was a great friend. He got liver cancer and we had to have him put down. He was buried in the back garden."

Fraser made a noise this time which was half a groan, half a snort. Ray didn't know why and he didn't much care. He huddled closer into Fraser because he was beginning to realise he was freezing. Fraser wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his hand just above Ray's 'champion' tattoo.

"I vowed never to have another pet again. Then one day this beautiful greyish silver cat appeared on our front doorstep. She was real elegant and would stare directly into your eyes. Cats don't usually do that. After we'd taken care of her for a couple weeks she began to have these, uh, fits. She'd just start twitching and skitting across the floor with her muscles all tense. She was not a pretty sight, spitting and hissing. We had no idea what was wrong with her, but it certainly wasn't curable. She was buried in the front garden because the back garden was already kinda full."

"Ray?"

"Yes, Fraser?"

"Have you ever had a pet that wasn't buried in your front or back garden?" Fraser brought his hand up and rubbed at his forehead gently.

"Well… does Diefenbaker count?"

"Yes, I think Diefenbaker is an acceptable answer."

"Good, because, y'know, when we get back to Chicago I have a horrible feeling Frannie's not going to have taken very good care of my turtle, and I may have to…"

"Find a garden to bury him in?"

"Exactly. So then, after we were first married, Stella and me got this golden retriever…"

Comments

[mergatrude.livejournal.com]

Oh god, I adore this! I immediately started cataloging our family pets.

And this gem hidden in amongst the funny:

Ray continued to survey their surroundings. If there was only one thing he would take away from all of this, it would be a sense of space. He'd thought he'd known what space was before. He'd stared up at the night sky, been in the middle of a cornfield, had a painfully empty apartment. But this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was never-ending, eternal space.

[loz]

Thank you kindly :D.

Oh yeah, uhm, some of that was taken from real life experience...

[purpig21.livejournal.com]

This is great, just too too cute. I can see them having this conversation.

and poor pets, and poor turtle. It really is doomed isn't it? *giggles*

at least he has Fraser to comfort him and Dief as a substitute pet. *BG*

[sharo.livejournal.com]

Goodness, I'm sure that Dief is very glad that he's not a "pet". *snerks* A wonderful side-effect of being Fraser's 'companion'. ^_^ But such a cute story! *wonders just how many pets the Stella let him have...*

[loz]

Thank you :D

*wonders too* I think it would only have been the golden retriever (which would have been much to Fraser's delight at this point).

[loz]

Thanks!

I want to save the turtle! I shall find a way.

[riverlight.livejournal.com]

I don't think I've ever even seen the turtle, but somehow the idea of it dying just seems damn sad. Poor Ray. Sometimes I forget just how lonely he really is.

On another note, know what I really liked about this? Your descriptions of snow. Very good. :)

Forgive the lack of more substantive comments, I'm migrain-y... but, yay! fic! I hope that works. ;)

[loz]

Thank you for reading, especially if you're migrain-y!

[riverlight.livejournal.com]

My pleasure!

[china_shop]

I swear, every time I saw him dancing from paw to paw near one of those things I'd imagine him yelling 'Nobody move or the dust ball gets it!', but uh, he was a dog, so y'know, he'd yap instead.

Bwahahaha! This is so cool (and also cold - brrrrr)! Just lovely.

[loz]

Cold? It wasn't cold, it was a loving reminiscence of pets gone by.

Bwaahahahahahaaaa. Thank you so much :D

[moirin-keeline.livejournal.com]

That was great. A piece of something that we all can associate with. Nearly everyone had pets and since they don't live as long as humans...
But what's with Sparky? Rays terrier who got hit by a car and Ray wasn't able to end it himself. A veterinary had to do it. Is this a dog after the golden retriever? Lord, Ray has lost lots of animals....
Poor thing. *wants to hug him*
But now he has Fraser for company and petting *smirk* and Ben will live very long, healthy and occasional purring on his side.

Hope the turtle lives when they come home. But if Franny is able to care for 6 kids she will also keep a turtle alive, huh?

[loz]

I knew there was canon for my giving this to Ray! Thank you for jogging my memory! Eeee, this will teach me to only watch "The Ladies Man" once.

I'm thinking Ray missed a couple of pets out before talking about he and Stella getting married... after all, Fraser already knows about that poor soul.

Thanks :)

[budikavlan.livejournal.com]

This was a sweet little story, but I did have one little niggle with it: when did Ray turn British? There are several little things ("weedy" for example), but the main thing is, his pets would have been buried in the front or back yard, rather than in the "garden."

[loz]

Ahh, sorry. I'm English and I live in Australia, so sometimes I'm not sure if everything is okay American vernacular wise. Stylistically I chose garden because it seemed to present a darker association than yard (things grow in gardens, yards always seem to be bare open spaces - in my mind at least), don't Americans ever refer to them as a gardens?

In my defence, Ray does tend to use all kinds of weird vocabulary :D... I'll attack an American friend to check my Americanisms next time. Ta muchly.

[budikavlan.livejournal.com]

To Americans, a garden is almost always a set-aside piece of land (larger than a bed, smaller than a field) for the purpose of growing vegetables or flowers. The pieces of land which surround a house are called yards (but can, of course, include gardens). Virtually no one, however, would have a garden in front of the house. Some people elaborately plan their spaces to include various types of plants, trees, water features, flower beds, pathways, seating, etc., and in those cases, the entire area would usually be called a "garden." But the vast majority of Americans (those who live in houses, anyway, just have plain old yards.

[loz]

Some people elaborately plan their spaces to include various types of plants, trees, water features, flower beds, pathways, seating, etc., and in those cases, the entire area would usually be called a "garden."

Yes, this was the sort of area I was envisaging - at the back of the house at least. I think I was mentally viewing Barbara Kowalski as a great horticulturalist, who despite a lack of funds took great pains to create a space of beauty and spectacle - making the gritty realisation of the 'fertiliser' all that more disturbing.

The sorts of things one takes for granted can be mind-boggling. I've watched enough American tv to have a relatively good grounding on a lot, and I use a fair amount of colloquialism which could be classified as American, yet I still managed to have no clue on this point. You learn something new every day. Thank you. I will keep this in mind for future endeavours.

[budikavlan.livejournal.com]

I was glad to help, and like I said at the beginning, it was a very small thing. Most authors have little things they don't know about, and don't know they don't know about.

One good example I've seen in fanfic is that the vast majority of female writers tend to dramatically overestimate the speed and frequency with which men get erections. I usually laugh when I read something like "B walked into the room, and A's trousers were immediately too small and getting tighter all the time." Men over the age of 13 or so don't go popping boners all over the place; the embarrassment suffered in their early teen years is a great impetus for developing better control over the body (especially that part). If a man has an erection, he generally intends to have it (and we don't have to frantically think about baseball or other unsexy things to ward them off, either).

[lorem_ipsum]

*raises hand* Some of us have gardens in the front yard, too.

[lorem_ipsum]

:)