Title: Furbaby
Author: Ardvari
Feedback address: ardvari@hotmail.com
Date in Calendar: 1 January 2009
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1045
Summary: Sara and Sofia are smitten with a kitten…
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Disclaimer: "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," CBS, or any representatives of the actors.

Author's Disclaimer: I don’t own them and I didn’t make any money writing this.

Note: This story was inspired by my cat Elphaba, whom I adore and who is so awesome she just deserves to be immortalized in a story.

Beta: Ariestess

They weren’t pet people, that was for sure. Granted, they liked pets but they had weird job schedules and their household was mostly nocturnal and how was that fair to a pet?

Nevertheless, the sign on the side of the highway was too tempting and maybe they were a bit overheated, too, when they followed the dirt road to the small farm. Free Kittens. The screen door slammed as a woman came down to meet them, taking them into the barn and showing them the cardboard box filled with shavings and kittens. Four of them, an orange tabby, a grey tabby and two black ones, one with a white spot on his chest. Sara’s eyes widened and Sofia could feel something pull at her heart strings.

“The orange and the striped one are spoken for. Neither of them is wormed and vaccinated. They’ll just be barn cats if no one takes them,” the woman shrugged, leaning against the wooden wall.

They each picked one up but it was Sara’s kitten that charmed them. Small, fuzzy, warm, and black, it nestled in her hand, blue eyes bright and scared. It mewled, sounding like a tiny rusty lawnmower. Sofia put the orange kitten back in the box, sidled over to Sara and smiled at the fur ball.

“That’s the only girl,” the woman said.

“We can do a cat,” Sofia whispered. “They’re not terribly dependant and she’ll sleep when we’re gone.”

“We’ll need to take her to the vet. And get food and a litter box and toys,” Sara whispered back, stroking the kitten’s soft baby fur before she handed it off to Sofia.

It meowed again, its voice like old, creaky hinges on a swing. Sofia cuddled it close, felt the kitten straining against her before it settled. She looked at Sara, smirking and nodding before she turned to the woman.

“We’ll take her,” she said.

The woman gave them a shoebox to put the kitten in and it meowed all the way back into Las Vegas. Sofia drove and Sara stroked the tiny cat. She touched the ears and the whiskers and felt the rib bones, thin as twigs, along the kitten’s side.

The meowing got angrier, more desperate and Sara giggled.

“Elphaba,” she said.

“What?”

“Let’s name her Elphaba, like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Sofia looked over and into the box as the kitten meowed, tiny teeth showing.

“She looks like an Elphaba,” she mused. “Elphaba. I think that’s a good name to yell when she climbs the curtains.”

They laughed and Sara rubbed Elphaba’s ears between her fingers until the kitten leaned into the touch. She didn’t purr but she closed her eyes, blinking at Sara as if she wasn’t comfortable enough with her yet to drift off to sleep.

With Elphaba in the shoebox they went into the pet supply shop, picking out a litter box and toys and food and a cat carrier and a scratch tower so the kitten wouldn’t mangle the furniture. They left her in the box when they got home and set everything up in the bathroom. Sara brought one of the fleece blankets for Elphaba to curl up on and they filled the litter pan and opened a can of food.

Elphaba wobbled and ate and meowed. They left her in the bathroom until she figured out the litter box. It took a couple of days and an accident on the tiles but she got it, heaving herself into the litter box eventually when she had to.

The first vet visit was traumatic, much more so for Sara and Sofia than for the cat. Elphaba got vaccinated and wormed and a small tube of liquid smeared on her neck against parasites. Just to make sure. She slept in the carrier on the way back and then on the couch when they got home. She was so small it looked like she would slide in between the cushions.

They gave her some cat milk and let her explore the apartment and after a week, she finally started purring. Rusty again, a miniature chainsaw. Both Sara and Sofia kneeled in front of the couch, rubbing Elphaba’s ears and listening to the sound. It was quiet and then it grew louder and they giggled because they were surprised that such a tiny thing could make such a big sound.

The kitten grew and gained weight and learned how to operate all four legs in sync. They laughed at her when she ran, hind legs faster than her front legs, almost making her fall head over heels. She climbed the curtains once because she wanted to sit on the window sill. Once she figured out how to jump, nothing was safe. She was on the kitchen counters, investigating the dishes in the sink. When Sofia washed her face in the bathroom, Elphaba watched. When Sara brushed her teeth, Elphaba swatted at the toothbrush.

She slept between them at night, one of them holding a paw and the other one holding a tail. Their bodies made a nest for the cat, their legs tangled and hands stroking the silky fur until the cat drifted off to sleep.

Sara taught her how to walk on a leash, a bright orange harness on the tiny cat. She got a collar and a name tag even though she was an inside cat. Sofia fed her treats, salmon flavored because she couldn’t get enough of those.

When Christmas came around, Elphaba was half a year old and climbing the tree, sitting in the middle of it and playing with the ornaments above her.

“Bad kitty!” Sofia scolded softly. Elphaba ducked, two bright eyes staring at the blonde woman from between the branches.

“I don’t think you scare her, Sof,” Sara grinned, wrapping her arms around Sofia’s waist and kissing her neck.

“No, probably not. I think we’ll have to make sure the tree is sturdy and the ornaments indestructible,” she answered, turning in Sara’s embrace and kissing her back.

Elphaba watched, and purred, swatting at the straw angel dangling above her.