More of  THE REASON

“Paul!” Traci tugged at my face pulling her into my focus. Once I stopped blinking I started drooling so I went back to blinking. It was the light. She was shinning a pen light into my eyes. “Paul? You in there?” Pinch of the cheek!

“YOW!” That woke me up! Pinch me if I'm dreaming, no wait not again!

“I thought maybe you'd gone zombie.”

“Would a zombie...! ACHOO! ...sneeze?”

“Geez I hope not! Yuck! You couldn't turn your head?”

“Where'd everybody go?”

“The noises you were making cleared the place.” She seemed relieved I was not zombied. It would have helped if she lowered the blaster aimed at my head. She gave me a deep look and I could see her decide I was safe and she lowered the weapon and said in an oddly cheery tone: “Come on lets go to my quarters.” A beckoning in which I sleepily dreamed a cats meow.

“Ok.” I stood meow. It was not so far, about six scurrying cats away. A fat calico tabby was waiting at Traci's door to get in. I sneezed an entrance fanfare. Some kinda histamine overload. We sit upon her plush lounge among the gamboling kittens I greet with sniffles. Who doesn't love kittens! Wait! What's with all these felines? I've heard about this curved can! It's cat station! Legendary “Cat Station!”

Traci explains: “Yes this medi-sat is known to some as 'cat station' because we love them so much! But they are a necessary vital part of our crew, we have so many millions of mice and rats here... you know for testing and feeding the snakes that we need our cat crew mates to help control the escapees!”

“There's escapees?”

“Oh yes.” Meaningful frown. “Look at the cats... they must be eating well.” The thought makes her happy again.

“Wait. Snakes?”

“They help with the rats and mice too. The mongooses take care of the escaped snakes... well mostly... they're immune to the venom you know... get along well with the cats. Just don't make one feel cornered if you have an encounter... you know grrrwwl!” She made a claw slash gesture with a low groin level snap. As cute as much of this was I am unsettled by the venomous snake news. Still, no reason not to enjoy a drink, she hands me a well chilled launch tank of marstini, she has one herself. If I'm to be savaged by cornered mongooses I'll want to be well anesthetized.

“Paul, I've still got something special to show you.” She purrs as she strokes a pussy.

The CO2 ice mist has froze my draining sinuses... “I can't wait.”

She's up across the room then back with a garment bag she opens to reveal a dull gray anti-shark suit that she thrusts towards me. “Try it on. Go on.” It's meant for me? A gift? She cares about me so much she doesn't want me eaten by sharks or zombies! It's made to fit over my shuttle suit which it flattens into spandex skin tight when sealed.

“Wow! Thank you Traci! Let's test it! Bite Me! Yeah. Wait. Oof ouch not the nose!”

I feel much better about snakes now. I love it when people give me things, especially things I want but are too lazy or stupid to obtain on my own. Suit: send her some cases of recently ancestral scotch.

Mid nibble is when Traci's cabin door buzzer buzzed intruding-ly, startling the cats. She jumps up to accept a delivery.

“Hey Paul, it's for you!” She signs the delivery bots lami receipt. It hands her a shipping box the size of shoe packaging. What's this? For me? I accept her hand off and set the package on the table by the beverages.

“EDC Embryonic Decanter Corporation, Upper Chufington England. What the heck?” Never heard of them. Opening the box produces a shiny metal flask with a wide mouth spin-on cap. A lami on its side flashed a steady color red as metrics displays flowed. I tapped the INST tab; a display appeared in the air mirroring the tiny lami. A tutorial instructed to “unscrew cap remove membrane tear open along dotted line enjoy many years of puppy love!”

“What?” I unscrew the cap and remove the crinkly packet inside. I tear along the dotted line. The membrane packet holds a tiny dog asleep. A lami at the neck flashes 'press to begin new life' which I do for the little puppy to open it's eyes to see me surrounded by hungry cats.

Suit has linked to the puppies packaging. We read: “Hello my name is (SPACE) I'm your Pic-a-Puppy Genetic Best Friend for Life! All your specifications have been included in our most popular Jack Russel II Terrier Patented Genome, Extra Lifespan, Extra Intelligence, Extra strong bones, Dissuade Coprophagous Behavior, Extra Obedient, Extra Athletic Ability, Extra Anti-flea Coat, Extra Warranty Parts and Labor. Plus Bonus of at Least One Extra Special Ability such as Defensive Genital Pinch, Slobber Trail, Mind Reading.”

“Well you got all the extra's.”

“It says I ordered this?” Suit blames it on my other pants that got recalled, it, snubbed Tom Cavendish, assumed my chat with the pet scientist was the placing of an order.

The puppy, my puppy is cuddled by the cat lover. “Wow. How cute...what will you name him... or her?” She peeks.

“Um... it says 'him' here... male. It says his name is 'Space'.” Translation glitch, his name could very well have been 'blank' or 'your name here'.

“Welcome little Space! Hello Spacey Space.“ Playfully my new puppy ignores me for her. They are so cute together, add kittens, I want to change my name to Space and frolic with them. My attempt spills steaming CO2 ice and marstini all over Traci's carpet.

“What does he eat eh? Got any puppy chow?” Care and feeding instructions say: feed regularly, water frequently, bathe occasionally. That's my lifestyle too! Substitute marstini for water.

“No but I've got Kitten Kitchen Kanned Gourmet. We don't like to feed them often the pouched food as they will slack off hunting.”

While Traci went to plop something onto a dish, Space explored his new world of cats at the nearby water bowl by falling into it.

“My doggy can swim!”

I'm afraid what happened next might have negatively shaped the little dogs perception of cats for life. He was indeed interested in the Salmon Surprise Kitten Kitchen Kanned Gourmet shinning gelatinous-ly upon the saucer, he was drawn more to dip his face in the cup of milk next to it. I noticed here the local cat population had gone up, the sound of the pouch's zipper opening had signaled them like a Pavlov's bell. They crowded the saucer, they shoved at the milk cup. It all happened so fast. Tiny Space defended his salmon and milk, he yapped, he nipped, he scampered menacingly, growling, clawing. It became a catastrophe in the ancient sense of the word, cats went everywhere, wreckage and debris of the furnishings flew as if a floor level whirlwind struck, cats fought cats, cats fought the upholstery, a mongoose ran in from somewhere and kicked one particular cats ass, Space the smallest of all, even smaller then the smallest kittens, fought them all ferociously until I could grab him by his tiny puppy scruff. Ha! Thanks for the bite proof suit! He swung at my arms length squirming, growling with infrequent yaps. His arc across the crowd of cats drew snarls and hisses as I aimed him at them like a weapon.

Next thing I know Space and I are kicked off the platform. I am forced by brandished tranquilizer dart guns to stand at the taxi boarding gate with Space in a plastic cat transport crate which must smell like cat as he's attempting to tear it into small chunks. Apparently it's a crime to bring a loose canine to this SAT. Who knew? I wasn't fully entry briefed. Traci comforts a nice fluffy angora, waving between strokes safely from the other side of thick glass.

Takes Helen two hours to come pick me up... “Hey Paul. Who's that?” Space peeks out from the top of my suit.

“Helen meet Space. The newest member of our research team.”

“Only you would go to cat station and leave with a dog! They try to give everybody kittens!”

“Let's go.”

“Where to?”

“Ginzberg and Cohen Tailors we've got to get Space into a good suit.”