My glass had been filled with white wine. I can’t remember what kind of wine it was, but it was nice. I knew I’d need to be careful about sipping it. I asked for ice water in case I got thirsty from all the salty fish. The waiter had placed hors d’oeuvres on our table: green olives, carrot and celery sticks, green and red peppers and a bowl full of some kind of sauce, which I skipped. But those buns! I could have made a meal on them. Fresh bread straight from the oven was a particular weakness of mine. I limited myself to one, however. Piggies probably never got invited on second dates.
Timothy and I started chatting about current events. I found my date to be knowledgeable, much more so than I was. I could tell him more about the facts I’d read in novels than what I’d seen on recent news broadcasts. But instead of being negative about my lacking knowledge concerning the stock market, politicians, and what sports teams were in the playoffs, Timothy praised my reading, commenting that he needed to broaden his own knowledge of the classics.
“I can think of nothing better than to snuggle up with you, each of us reading a book while the fire keeps us toasty warm, and the cat purrs on the rug in front of our hearth,” he said.
I laughed. First of all, I didn’t have a fireplace, so no raging fire, and I’d never had a pet. My mother hadn’t liked cats or dogs. She’d said they were messy and gave nothing back for all their expensive care. Now that my roommates were gone, I supposed I might be tempted to adopt a cat. I liked that purring part, but cats scratched people and furniture. How did you get the purring without the scratching?
We discussed that issue for a bit, with Timothy admitting that he knew nothing about domesticated animals, having never had a pet either.
I sighed and then thought about sharing my life with a soft, gentle cat. I could pet it and cuddle with it. That would be great, really.
“And what is your favorite kind of cat?” Timothy asked, after I admitted that I might actually decide to get one. “Siamese, Persians, or pound cats?”
I shrugged, then shook my head. We were eating our risotto by then, and although I’d vowed not to drink all my wine, the waiter kept topping it off, so I’d lost any sense of how much I’d had. I pushed my glass away and pulled my ice water closer.
“I have no favorite. I guess I’ve never investigated the cat world. Maybe we could do so together?”
That was stepping into muddy waters. My timid lion persona didn’t like that and tried to jerk me back. But I could tell that Timothy was pleased that I’d suggested it.
“Tomorrow?” he said.
“Yes. Let’s.”
Okay, I’d jumped into the whole pet thing with the rapidity of a daring individual, but in my new hairstyle and makeup, not to mention my expensive dress and brand-new coat, which Timothy had handed to the restaurant greeter with the nonchalance of someone expecting such service, I felt audacious.