Kittens

[intheheart]

Title: Kittens
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gail is well used to Ivy trying to get away with things, but this is new.
Date: 1995
Notes: none.
Warnings: mentioned animal death.


The door slammed, and Gail winced, but didn't bother looking up from her grading. "Don't slam the door, Ivy!" she called.

"Sorry, Mom!" Ivy called back. She sounded out of breath, and her footsteps were one beat short of running as she headed for her room.

Gail frowned.

She knew her child very well. Self-defense, really; Ivy was a good kid but a reckless one, who didn't always think her actions through. If she was in real trouble, she'd come straight to her mother and confess, but if she thought she could get away with something, which was often... oh, yes. Gail knew very well what it sounded like when Ivy had done something she wanted to keep a secret.

Gail put down her grading and got up.

The door to Ivy's room closed noisily, just short of a slam, just as she got to the hallway. It probably wasn't worth fussing over, she decided, and knocked on her daughter's door.

"I'm busy!" Ivy said, sounding harassed. Gail raised her eyebrows.

"Are you?" she asked. "What are you doing?"

There was a brief, appalled silence. "Homework?" Ivy ventured.

"Mmhmm." Gail folded her arms and leaned against the wall next to the door. "What subject?"

Another silence. "Science?"

Okay, Ivy did voluntarily do her science homework. But on a Saturday afternoon? "Child of mine," Gail said, "why don't I believe you?"

"Dunno," Ivy said. "I'm perfectly innocent."

"So you won't open the door because..."

"I'm busy!" This time she sounded genuinely annoyed.

Gail narrowed her eyes at the door, considering. There was every chance that Ivy wasn't actually doing anything wrong, just doing something she didn't want her mother to know about. Lord knew she and Cecily had done that enough times, sneaking romance novels into their rooms, eating snacks before dinner. Harmless, silly things, not worth parental intervention. It might be safe to leave Ivy alone, at least until dinner...

Then she heard it.

"Ivy Hirschfeld-Kendall," she snapped, "open this door right now."

The door creaked open half an inch, and Ivy peered out. "What?"

She had the sense not to sound annoyed again, at least. Gail glared at her. "Did your bedroom just mew?"

"Um." Ivy bit her lip. "No?"

"Nice try," Gail said. "Where are they?"

Ivy held her ground for half a moment, then, as a repeated demand rose to Gail's lips, heaved a gusty sigh and opened the door.

The kittens, three of them, lay on her bed, batting wearily at each other and crawling about, investigating the plate of tuna Ivy had set beside them, and the bowl of water. Ivy went over to them, without looking at her mother, and patted the head of the smallest.

"Their mom was dead," she said, in a small voice. "I saw her. There were a couple of littler ones, but they were dead too. I couldn't leave them, Mom."

Gail sighed, her anger draining away, and stepped forward to stand by the bed. "What were you planning to do?"

Ivy shrugged. "Keep feeding them. I was making a box for them to sleep in." She nodded at a hatbox, that had previously contained Gail's favorite hat, partially lined with her best shirt.

Gail bit back several comments on that subject, and asked, instead, "What if they got sick? What about when you went to school?"

Ivy's shoulders hunched. "I don't know. I couldn't leave them!"

"No," Gail said, surprising her daughter, who looked up at her with a confused kind of hope on her face. "I agree, you couldn't leave them. But you can't keep them either, sweetie."

"I won't take them to the pound," Ivy said, jutting out her chin stubbornly. "They put animals to sleep there and they're only babies."

Gail took a deep breath, released it, and then said, "I didn't mean the pound. You remember Mrs. Angela? She adopted that dog you brought home."

"Yes," Ivy said, expression suspicious.

"The vet she takes her dog to does kitten fostering," Gail said. "We were just talking about it yesterday. I thought that we could take the kittens to him. He knows how to take care of them, Ivy, and he'll make sure they get good homes."

"Oh." Ivy looked down at the kittens, now clustered around the tuna and eating steadily. "I guess that would be okay."

"Good," Gail said, "because it's what's going to happen." Ivy's shoulders hunched again, and she took another breath, modulated her voice. "Ivy, I'm very proud of you for trying to help these kittens. I just wish you'd brought them straight to me, or your father."

"They were just so little," Ivy said. "I couldn't not."

Because she was a good kid. "Yes," Gail said. "And that's why I'm proud of you."

"Okay," Ivy said. There was a pause while she stroked the littlest kitten again, then she asked, "Couldn't we keep just one?"

"No," Gail said. "We are not equipped for kittens."

"Please?"

"No," she said again, and resolved to talk to Nathan as soon as he got home. They weren't going to have a baby for a while. Time to think about getting an adult cat, before Ivy brought home a stray.