Persian cat worth more than I made in a year. My ex-girlfriend called her
Princess Donut for short. I just stuck with Donut.
So let me back up about ten minutes. I won’t bore you with too much
backstory, but some of these details may be important.
My name is Carl. I am twenty-seven years old. After a stint in the US
Coast Guard, I ended up working as a marine tech, fixing electrical systems
for rich assholes and their party boats. I, up until a few days before this
started, lived with my girlfriend in our apartment in Seattle.
Her name was Beatrice. Bea. She went to the Bahamas for a New Year’s
thing with a bunch of friends. She didn’t tell me her ex-boyfriend went
along with her on the trip. I figured it out pretty quick when I saw the
picture of her sitting on his lap on Instagram.
I don’t like drama, and I don’t deal well with it. Whether she was
actually cheating on me or not, it didn’t matter so much. She’d lied. So I
called her up, and I told her we were done. I promised I’d have all her stuff
ready for her to go when she got back. No drama. No fuss. But we were
done.
She’d asked her parents to come get the cat, but they lived on the other
side of the Cascades, and nobody was getting through any of the passes
with this weather. So I promised I’d look after her until Beatrice got back.
So, let me tell you about Donut the cat. Like I said, she’s one of those
fluffy, flat-faced cats that look like they need to be sitting on the lap of a
Bond villain. Bea and I shared a two-bedroom apartment, and one of those
rooms was dedicated to the cat if that tells you anything. More specifically,
the room was devoted to Donut’s Best-in-Show ribbons, her Best-in-Breed
ribbons, and the countless trophies and framed photographs of her sitting on
a table, looking all fuzzy and pissed off while Bea and a judge stood behind
her. Bea probably had fifty of the pictures. She’d won a mess of ribbons and
trophies and photographs pretty much every time Beatrice took Donut to an
event. And Bea took that damn cat to a show almost every weekend.
Her whole family was into raising and showing Persian cats. Me, I
didn’t really know much about that whole cat show world. I didn’t want to
get too involved. Like I said, I don’t do drama.
And let me tell you something about cat people. More specifically, cat
show people.
Actually, never mind. Fuck those guys. All that’s important is Bea and
Donut were a part of this whole world I didn’t want anything to do with.
