Characters/Pairings: Brittany, Brittany’s psychic cat
Word Count: 315
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, AU
Summary: As it turns out, Alfred (or Angelina) isn’t really psychic. But he can write in the feline language.
Notes: This is the fourth (and final) timestamp serving as a coda to my gleebigbang fic here.
As usual, Alfred was having an identity crisis. He angrily swished his tail at the thought. This week, his human was switching between Alfred and Angelina.
Cats took names very seriously. The brown tabby next door, for example, only answered to Jennifer. Not Jenny. And definitely not Jen. (She had ignored him a full two hours after he made that mistake, not that he minded much. Jennifer was more high maintenance than was necessary, in his opinion. She refused to eat anything but Fancy Feast, and she wouldn’t go with him to claw at the wood post thing across the street.)
The point was, every time his human changed his name, he had to readjust his aura around the name’s…weight. But she wouldn’t understand that. Anyway, there was no way he could tell her.
Something fell from the desk where his human sat. A sticky looking black liquid poured onto a book. Alfred had an idea. He padded over to the book and dipped his paw into the liquid. He pressed his paw onto the book, deliberately using the different strokes his mama had taught him to convey a message he hoped his human would understand, namely: I want one name. I am partial to Alexander.
His human made the high pitched squealing sound she sometimes did before dragging him to the place with the large water bowl. She set him in another bowl in the room and washed his paw. They returned to her room. His human bent over the book. Alfred felt hopeful.
“Hmmm,” she said. “This looks like…O? No, that’s a Q. And…wow! Quinn’s gonna make out with Josh Ackles? I haven’t even gotten to him yet!”
His human cleaned up the black liquid and left the room. Alfred returned to his bed in the corner, paws over his eyes. He whimpered quietly.
“Angelina!” his human called.