Stray

## Meta

**Timing:** March 2025, a few days after Jackson and Logan are released after their post-Victoria Harbour trial

**Setting:** Logan's flat, the 2nd Darling-Jones house, assorted locales around Sydney

## Text

There's a cat sleeping on Logan's chest.

Which, considering there were no animals in the flat when he went to bed, is very odd.

He blinks at the half-grown tabby.

The cat opens a copper eye, assesses him, yawns, and goes back to sleep.

Logan sniffs, sits up—

The cat slides, sinks its claws into the blanket, and hangs there.

—eases from beneath the blanket, and to his feet.

It pries itself loose, circles twice, and returns to its nap.

Logan shrugs and heads for the washroom.

.

The cat waits for Logan, which he discovers when he—almost—sits down for breakfast on his favorite spot on the couch.

It lifts its head. "/*Mmroww*," it says crankily.

Logan glares at it.

The cat glares back.

"Shoo," he says.

It lies back down.

Logan rolls his eyes, nudges the cat aside with his foot.

It lands on all four paws on the floor with a /*thump*.

Logan settles in.

The cat jumps onto the back of the sofa, strolls across, makes itself comfortable on Logan's shoulders.

He rests his head against the furry belly.

The cat purrs.

Logan tucks into his cereal.

.

[He finishes, stands—

The cat scrabbles, sinks in—

"Fuckin' /**ow**!" Logan grabs—

—all sixteen claws—

—the cat by the scruff, pries it loose—

—hisses, flails.

—drops it on the couch.

The cat glares at Logan, puffed up.

"None of that if you don't want me to call the pound on you."

The cat keeps glaring, flattens its ears, hisses again.

"Don't press your luck, fuzzy."

The cat grumps, circles, lies down, tucks its nose under its tail.

Logan rolls his eyes. He rinses his bowl in the sink, puts on his shoes, snags his keys, and heads out for Jacks's.]

[.]

[Logan's passing the park when something solid and soft collides with his shins. He staggers, windmills his arms, barely keeps his feet. Whirls around—

The cat, looking smug, sits in the middle of the sidewalk.

From the park, sounds of children giggling.

Logan glares at the anklebiters.

Squeaks, pitter-pats, silence.

Logan glares at the cat.

The cat squints.

"You trying to tell me something?"

The cat stands, stretches, rubs against Logan's legs, purring hard.

Logan sighs, crouches, strokes the soft fur on the cat's back.

More purring.

Logan smiles. "Wanna lift, fuzzy?"

The cat headbutts Logan's hand, crouches, hops onto Logan's thigh, then to his shoulders, and drapes itself around Logan's neck. It sets to purring again.

Logan straightens, resumes strolling.]

[.]

[Logan knocks on Jack's back door.

""It's open!"" hollers Jack.

Logan tries the knob. "No, it's not!"

A beat. ""I'll be there in a minute!""

Logan huffs. Taps his foot. Shrugs—

The cat grumps.

—pulls a bundle of tools from his pocket, crouches, pops the lock, lets himself in.

Jack, halfway to the door, stops mid-stride, sighs. "Why didn't you do that to start with?"

"Trying to turn over a new leaf."

Jack snorts a laugh, blinks. "Cat?"

"It was in my bed when I woke up and hasn't left me alone since."

"I thought you hated cats."

"New leaf?"

Jack laughs. "Well, if] you want to keep a pet in the city," explains Jackson, "they have to wear a collar or have a microchip. Otherwise animal control might catch it and, uh, put it to sleep."

Logan [side-eyes the cat], frowns.

[The cat] flattens his ears.

"Which one do you want, furball: bling or electronic tracking device?"

Snicket remains unmoved.

"The collar could get hung up on something and choke the little guy," adds [Jack].

Logan sighs. "Chip it is."

"/*Mmr*," grumps [the cat].

"Don't feel bad," soothes Logan, scratching [its] chin, "Jack's been there; you can trade tracker stories with him."

[Jack] huffs. "Charlie's friend-of-a-friend with a vet. Get the number from her."

["Speaking of Charlie, she bake anything lately?"

Jack turns, heads deeper into the kitchen. "Yes, but you can't have any."

"I'm feeling the brotherly love, Jack." Logan follows, cat still purring on his shoulders.]

[.]

Empty box propped against his hip, Logan drops a couple quarters into the payphone by the grocer's and punches in Nanny's number.

""Good [afternoon], Logan.""

Logan opens his mouth, blinks.

""You're the only person I know who still uses payphones, dear.""

Logan shrugs. "Can I have a lift tomorrow?"

An expectant pause.

"Please?"

""Where to?""

"The vet for eleven thirty."

""I'll meet you by the [grocer's] at half past ten.""

"Thanks, Nanny."

""You're welcome, Logan. Love you lots.""

"See you then."

[.]

[Ten A.M. rolls around the next morning] and Logan strolls into the living room [with the box.

The cat] looks up from [its] nap [in the middle of the couch].

Logan [smirks.

The cat flattens its] ears.

Logan scoops [it] up from behind [its] shoulders—

[The cat] becomes floppy dead weight in his hands.

—[places it in the] box for the trip to the animal clinic.

[The cat /*rrrowww*s pitifully.]

[.]

Logan, boxful of cat under his arm, meets Nanny and her car at the curb. He slides into the passenger seat, balances the box on his lap.

[Nanny smiles, greets, "Good morning, love."

"'morning."

"Seatbelt," she prompts.

Logan buckles up.

She puts the car in gear. "Why are we heading to the vet's today?"

"Got a cat." Logan tilts his head toward the box.]

"How sweet! You've made a friend!" [Nanny pulls into traffic. "But I thought you hated cats."

Logan rolls his eyes. "This one sort of adopted me."]

Nanny chuckles. "That's adorable. What's the [critter's] name?"

[Logan shrugs. "I don't know. It's not like the furball came with a nametag."]

"You can't [just call it 'furball',] Logan."

[He sighs.

"'Indiana'?" offers Nanny.

Logan scowls. "No."

"'Doctor'?"

"No."

"'Davy'?"

"Hell, no." Mutters, "Hated that movie."

Nanny sighs. "I'm sure you'll think of something, dear."

Logan grunts, watches the city through the window.]

[.]

"What a little /**sweetheart** you have here!" coos the vet tech.

[The cat] is a passive puddle of fur on the exam table.

"We rarely see former strays as well behaved as ... what did you say his name was again?"

[Logan hesitates, then declares,] "Snicket."

"As in the books?"

Logan looks blank.

"As in '/**Lemony Snicket**'? /*A Series of Unfortunate Events*? Incredibly popular kids' books?"

Logan shrugs. "Wasn't much of a reader as a kid."

The tech shakes their head sadly.

"Well, you've got a healthy young male cat, [Mx] Jones. Probably less than a year old, has some healed injuries, a few fleas, and's a little underweight, but in great shape for a stray."

Snicket manages to pool smugly.

"I understand you want him vaccinated and microchipped today? We can also get him set up with regular flea treatment."

"Yea, give him the whole workup."

The vet nods and leaves.

The tech digs in a cabinet and comes up with an enormous needle.

Snicket meeps.

Logan hooks a finger around one of Snicket's paws.

Snicket purrs.

["What a /sweetie!" chirps the tech. "He's so lucky to have found you!"]