The Cake Thief

By Rachel Dib

“This is all your fault,” a robotic voice growled.

Mark glanced in the rearview mirror at the cream-colored Himalayan. Though Zeus looked pitiful splayed across the backseat, eyes droopy and tummy bulging, Mark felt little sympathy. “How is this my fault?”

“You left that cake on the counter,” Zeus whined. His translation collar blinked with each word.

“Yeah, because I was waiting for it to cool. How was I supposed to know you’d eat the whole thing?”

Zeus flicked his tail. “It smelled good.”

“It was supposed to. It’s cake. If it doesn’t smell good, something is wrong.” Mark switched on his turn signal and made a left.

Zeus moaned.

“You better not throw up in my car.”

“It would serve you right,” the cat replied with a pathetic mew. “Leaving tasty cake around.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t meant for you. It was a birthday cake for Becca.”

“Birthday cake?” Zeus lifted his head slightly, then laid it back down. “What is birthday cake?”

“A cake to celebrate the day someone is born.”

“Why?”

Mark shrugged. “It’s a human tradition. Today is Becca’s birthday. I was hoping to surprise her with it when she got home from class.”

“Because you still hope to be her mate,” Zeus accused.

“No, because it’s what friends do,” Mark shot back. “Becca and I are just friends. I’ve told you that.”

“You lie, but I am too sick to care,” the cat replied.

Mark flicked his gaze at the mirror to see Zeus’s claws extended as he pawed the seat.

“Hey! Put those away! I better not find any scratches in the vinyl.”

Zeus sneezed and dropped his leg over the edge of the seat. “I am offended.”

Mark lifted a brow. “Because?”

“You did not celebrate my date of birth with a cake.”

“Well, considering how today went, that’s a good thing.” Mark scowled. “Because now, instead of giving Becca cake, I have to give her a sick cat.”

He took another turn. Zeus gagged.

“I swear, if you puke in my car, I’ll—”

“What will you do, stinky-foot human?” Zeus snapped. “You have already poisoned me. By tomorrow, I shall be dead. What more can you do?”

“You’re not going to die.” Mark pursed his lips. “Though you might have if I’d baked  chocolate cake instead of strawberry lemonade.”

Zeus groaned. “Tasty strawberries.”

“As it is,” Mark continued, “the vet says you’ll be fine in a day or so.”

“No, I will not,” Zeus howled. “I will die a slow death. Then my human will hate you. She will finally banish you from our home, but I will be too dead to enjoy your absence.”

Mark glanced at the mirror. Zeus had rolled over onto his back and suspended all four feet in the air.

He’s so dramatic. Shaking his head, Mark slowed to a stop.

Zeus’s ears pricked. “Am I home?”

“No. It’s just a red light.”

Zeus batted the air with a paw. “I care nothing for your colors. Keep going. I wish to lie on my floor pillow as soon as possible.”

“Yeah? Well, I wish to avoid getting a ticket. So—” Mark swung toward the backseat as Zeus made a guttural, hacking sound. “Zeus!”

Zeus swiveled his head to stare unblinking up at Mark. “Bring me home, human.”

“I will when the light turns green,” Mark spat and, gritting his teeth, refaced the front. He expected to hear Zeus let out another gagging noise, but the cat only lay on his side, the tip of his tail curling and uncurling in annoyance.

“You try my patience,” Zeus finally said.

The light turned green, and Mark eased the car forward. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“I only put up with you because my human says you are cute,” Zeus said flatly.

Mark jerked upright. “Becca said what?”

“Since my human also says I am cute,” Zeus continued, “I assume that means she feels affection for you.” He tilted his head. “I do not know why.”

“Wait, Becca really said I’m cute?” Mark pressed, flicking his gaze back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror.

The cat squirmed, repositioning himself so his back was to Mark. “That is what I said. Though she will always prefer me to you.”

“Yes, of course.” Mark nodded, but he couldn’t help the slow smile spreading across his face.

“Ugh,” Zeus muttered. “Why does my human always choose stupid, stinky mates. She doesn’t need a mate. She has me.” Zeus stretched his arm up the length of the seat. “At least this one makes cake. Poisoned cake. But still cake.”

Grinning, Mark focused on the road. Becca thinks I’m cute. His smile faltered, however, when he turned into the apartment complex and heard Zeus’s next guttural cough. She potentially likes me, and I poisoned her cat!

He bit his lip, his palms suddenly sweaty. Spotting Becca’s car in the parking lot, he flinched. What if she does hate me now?

Mark pressed the brake.

“Am I home?” Zeus asked, but Mark ignored him.

Just act cool. Pretend you don’t know. He sighed. “Because that’ll work.”

Zeus lifted his head. “What will work?”

Shoulders slumped, Mark parked beside Becca’s car.

Zeus immediately let out a garbled, wet, hacking noise. “Cake is no good the second time.”

Pressing his lips together, Mark gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He exhaled slowly. “Please tell me you didn’t throw up as soon as we arrived.”

“I vomit when I need to vomit.” Zeus propped his front feet atop the armrest, appearing next to Mark’s shoulder.

Mark clenched his jaw. “You couldn’t have waited until you’d gotten out of the car?”

“No.” Zeus sniffed. “You will want to clean that up.”

“I hate you,” Mark growled.

“And I you.” Zeus bobbed his head. “Why not stay away?”

Mark shifted his gaze to Becca’s apartment. She stood on the doorstep, her expression anxious. “Because, despite you, she’s worth it.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the United States. Her works of short fiction have been published by On the Premises Magazine, Havok Publishing, and Ye Olde Dragon Books. She has also had short stories published by Toasted Cheese Literary Journal under the name R.J. Snowberger.

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