Friday Special - Whose Story is it Anyway?: Cats Like Walking Too

Today, Kyle and I are trying an experiment. The Friday Special. Each week on friday we will try something totally different from the norm. We will either get a guest, or try something new. This week we are experimenting with writing a collaborative story. Something we tried back when we were younger and inexperienced at writing (we still are).  Each paragraph is written by one of us, your job is to figure out who wrote it. Whose story is it anyways?
Emily is a dog walker who ends up biting off more than she can chew when she take a very special request.

Cats, why did it have to be cats? Emily thought to herself as Mr. Pounce stubbornly refused to move off the oak tree he had firmly anchored himself to. She yanked and yanked on the leash, but no matter what Mr. Pounce would not move. She wanted to pull with all her strength and choke the damn cat until it fell unconscious, or died. I swear I put ‘Dog Walker’ on the damn ad.

 The other four cats were getting into trouble of a different kind as Emily attempted to calm Pounce down. Jack the black cat had laid down on the pavement, the only good one in the bunch. Leopold, the bengal, had decided to lasso her right leg with his leash. Bernie a hairless was attempting to climb up the other leg, attempting to perch on Emily’s shoulder. Then there was DC the maine coon who just scowled at the world unwilling to have anything to do with the others. Emily was unfortunate to say the least , but it didn’t stop people from laughing and taking pictures on their way down the busy city street. 

 Emily went for one final yank with the leash, this time throwing her whole body into it, like a fisherman reeling in his biggest catch of the year. Her face faded from white to red, then back again marking her defeat. Pounce hissed at her in response and continued climbing the tree. She sat down and slumped against the oak, and stroked the top of Jack’s head. Bernie, taking the perfect opportunity climbed up her shirt and nested upon her shoulder, she didn’t bother fighting it. It was hopeless, “At least I’m getting paid for this,” she thought and reflect on how it all began.

 It was hours earlier, no one had taken a bite on her ads for a week. Either this city hates dogs or someone else had a monopoly on walking their fuzzy asses. She was about to start looking at a legitimate jobs to facilitate the growing student debt that her family had failed to plan for. Her phone finally rang when she was about to grab some coffee.

          “Hello? This is Emily Darvish speaking.” she said to some unknown party.
          “Hi, Emily. My name is Miss Polk and I just saw your ad on one of the lamp posts the other night and it gave me an idea. How would like like to walk my precious balls of fur for me?” An older ladies voice came from the the other end. 
          “Well of course I would love to walk them for you, what is your address?” with that sentence her fate was sealed. She plugged the address in her phones map app and was on her way.

 To say it was a nice house would be an understatement, it was the most beautiful house Emily had ever seen. The first thing she noticed as she pulled up to the lot was the lawn’s lush green grass, trimmed to perfection, not a single weed or ant pile in sight. The maroon walkway, bordered with chalk-white stones winded across the yard like a stone ribbon, made of what she could only imagine were the finest stones mined from some quarry in a country she never heard of. The house itself was enormous, its white facade reminded her of the White House. Black shutters hung from the windows, and decorative flower boxes filled with daisies and lilies sat under each. “Jackpot,” she said making a triumphant fist and knocked on the door.

 It took a while, but Emily waited patiently, it was worth it she kept thinking. Minutes past so she rang the doorbell, still nothing. Emily checked the address again one more time, when the door finally opened to a sweet old lady. Her hair was white and curled into perm, she had a very fine dress on that was soft even to the eyes, and every inch had some piece of  gaudy jewelry. Such extravagance… she thought to herself. Words faded from Emily’s mouth.

 “You must be the sweet young lady I called yesterday,” she said, “please come on in.”

 “Okay…” Emily followed unquestionably. But it was strange, she didn’t hear a bark and nothing came to greet them.

 “It’s so nice having guest over,” the old woman continued, “I’ve been quite lonely since my husband passed. Lucky for me I have Mr. Pounce, Jack, Leopold, Bernie, and DC; pets are god’s gift to the lonely.” She sighed.

          “Well that is an awful lot of dogs for just a lady such as your self. I understand why you need a walker.” Emily said with confidence.

 “I never said they were dogs,” she said as they passed by a cat tree with four giant levels. Emily’s heart sank. “I’m deathly allergic dogs, I haven’t owned one since I was a child. They’re my precious little kittens.” With that she pulled out a bag of treats and shaked it, and all five came running from different parts of the house.

          One, two, three, four, five. Emily counted to herself. Five fucking cats, I hate cats. All they do is lounge around all day, never doing anything worthwhile, you feed them and take care of them and they will still scratch and bite you like some sort of enemy. But I need the money. I guess I can just do it at a premium, she does seem to have plenty of it. Emily thought as she weighed her options. Know what I’ll do it. “Okay, Miss Polk this isn’t what I expected but I’ll do whatever you want.” Emily finally said after a long pause. 
          “Great!” the cat lady said, “I know your ad said dog walker and I worried you might decline if I told you over the phone. But they really are sweet kittens. They’re leashes are over by the front door. What was your rate? I’m so sorry I forgot it, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

 “Well, I never intended for cats so how about 100 an hour for all five of them.” She said hoping the heft price tag wouldn’t deter her. 

 “What a bargain!” Mrs. Polk said, “you know what, I’ll throw in an extra ten dollars for each of my adorable kittens to make it worth your while.”

 Holy. Crap. I just made 150 in an hour for  walking these little shits. She must be loaded. Emily thought as her jaw just hung open. “Well Ms. Polk I just go right ahead and take them off of your hands for a bit. When would you like me to bring them back?”

          “Anytime before sundown, they haven’t stretched their legs in ages. I knew you would love this job.”

          With that Emily took the leashes and hooked it around each of their necks and attempted to get them all in one hand. But as soon as she did they all wanted to scatter pulling her five ways each not wanting to leave their home. What did I get myself into.